


Protect & Heal

by chantel_k



Series: Protect & Heal [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Protectiveness, Size Difference, Slow Burn, questionable medical procedures, there's gonna be a lot of cooking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 105,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantel_k/pseuds/chantel_k
Summary: Pissy auri paladin meets lalafell white mage. Said paladin hates lalafell.What a pity fate seems to be slamming them together more and more!(originally oneshot entitled "How To Overcome Your Disgust For Lalafell")
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Protect & Heal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551064
Comments: 20
Kudos: 24





	1. How To Overcome Your Disgust For Lalafell

**Author's Note:**

> once upon a time i wrote a oneshot for a friend about how our ffxiv characters met.  
> then i wrote a lot more and realized i should probably organize them chronologically and maybe format the longer ones out into smaller chapters, so here we are.  
> let my continuity error suffering begin.  
> hope you enjoy.

Alacran licked the last of the (very stale) flatbread crumbs from his fingers with his long blue tongue, and glared moodily at the entrance to Brayflox's Longstop. It seemed a cut above the previous dungeons he'd encountered, judging from the howls of the beasts within. 

Probably best not to go alone then, but nobody seemed to be around presently that might be brave enough to go with him.

He decided that a nap was in order anyway, to recover his mp whilst not going mad from boredom.

"Hey you! Auri paladin!"

Alacran started from his peaceful nap on a very nice warm rock and looked around for the owner of the deep female voice.

No elezen ladies seemed to be in the immediate vicinity, or anyone at all really.

"Did I dream it-"

"Down here, nitwit." The voice sounded at his feet and he craned his scaly neck down to see… a dunesfolk lalafell. 

Rhalgr had clearly cursed him today.

He scrambled up defensively, reaching for his sword.

"What do you want?"

The lalafell jerked a pudgy thumb in the direction of Brayflox's Longstop.

"I want to go in there, but it's not exactly wise for a white mage to go alone, especially with these flimsy robes. I thought you might want a healer, and I need a tank. So what do you say?"

What to say indeed. Lalafell still made his skin crawl, but he _was_ a paladin now, and by virtue of the paladin guild being in Ul'dah, he'd have to learn to be at ease in the diminutive race's presence _sometime._

"Erm… perhaps that might be..alright."

She grinned at him and tapped the link pearl embedded in her tiny brown ear. 

"I can get us a bard to help too?"

He licked his lips. Peloton was always a boon.

"Done."

  
  


The bard turned out to be a pretty, blue haired Xaela, and he felt his heart skip a beat to see one of his own so far from home. She introduced herself only as Vi-Deo, and proceeded to bring up the rear in a professional, detached manner. 

He figured he had nothing to worry about and turned all his attention to practicing his new skills on the mobs. The lalafell seemed a decent white mage, and he never found cause to worry for his health. 

  
  


Soon they found themselves at the end of the longstop, facing down a straight-up _dragon._ Alacran felt a slight tremor of nerves-none of the monsters he'd fought thus far had been this massive.

He tried to put on a brave front, and cleared his throat.

"Hey you, white mage."

The little creature blinked up at him with her _disgusting blank white eyes._ He clenched his sword a little tighter.

Professional.

Professional.

You're going to swear to protect one of them.

"...mp ok?"

"Yeah! Let's murder it!"

Charming. But he felt a bit of relief. He had managed to be civil. Baby steps. 

He charged forward.

Dragons certainly were a step above, he ruefully reflected as it spewed yet another puddle of poison at his feet. He narrowly distracted it from chasing down Vi-Deo with its claws and tried to catch his breath before it did that infernal attack with rocks again. The the white mage screamed across the room. 

"I THINK IT GETS STRONGER FROM THE POISON, GET IT OUT OF THE PUDDLES OR ELSE!"

"Or else what??" he muttered begrudgingly. "You'll stop healing me?? Good luck with that…" 

He glared at her and slowly egged the dragon away from the green glop.

"How's this, _princess?_ "

But instead of scrunching up her tiny face in the entitled way he was used to from ul'dahns, she just smiled.

"Nice!" was all she said, as she began to cast Medica.

After a long, tense battle, Vi-Deo managed to finish off the dragon with an impressive limit break and Alacran sank to the ground, exhausted. The lalafell seemed none the worse for wear, and eagerly waddled over to the chest and opened it with relish. 

The paladin gritted his teeth, expecting the healer to greedily ask for all the loot, seeing as she had both healed and strategized. He shut his eyes and drew a deep breath.

_Lalafell just love gil, it's nothing personal_ he reminded himself.

"Aww! Still no sign of any robes…" he heard from behind.

A jingle and crash of metal at his feet startled him, and he sprang up to see the white mage dumping a pile of armor in front of him.

"It's all yours!" she beamed, dusting off her hands and shoving battered spectacles back up her tiny nub of a nose.

Alacran blinked twice.

"What about you? Vi-Deo too?"

The lalafell shrugged.

"She already left, and what am I gonna do with armor? It's only worth a few grand company

seals at best, for I certainly wouldn't use it myself-being a full time healer and all. Good job tanking by the way! I've seen..much worse."

Something about a creature with no pupils talking about _seeing_ seemed hilarious, and the xaela stifled a chuckle.

"Thanks. For healing. And the gear… I really needed it. It looks nice too. So thanks."

"No problem, I just did my job to be honest. Nothing fancy in that. Gotta run now, I can hear my friend screaming on my link pearl to come deliver his crafting materials. See you around!"

The lalafell delivered a cheerful goodbye wave, and teleported away. 

It took a minute before Alacran realized he never asked her name.

Well. He probably wouldn't see her again anyway, but at least he knew there was one decent diminutive person out there. He smiled a tiny smile, before starting.

"Ah! The armor!"

It took a week for him to see her again, and then it was just in passing. He'd been taking the long way back from Marauder's Guild to Hawker's Alley when he saw her hastily emerge from The Bismarck, carrying a pan of something that smelled _amazing_. He almost raised a hand to call out, but paused. She was sprinting, no doubt on her way to deliver it while it was piping hot. 

He remembered his master's wise words.

"Never, ever surprise someone with a hot pan."

Wise old man.

Pity though…

  
  


A few months later, he had almost completely forgotten about her, having thrown himself into becoming stronger and running petty errands for this hyur chick who he could barely listen to without falling asleep.

"Pray return to the Waking Sands my _arsehole_ " he growled, wiping the sweat off his brow before provoking a wandering ant off of his healer- a tiny miqo'te man who he was _privately_ regarding as...overcautious with his heals and under-aware of his surroundings. 

Diplomacy was becoming a little bit of a necessary evil the longer he remained in Ul'dah, though restraining his speech for the noble classes was… interestingly hard.

Late night aggression workouts on the striking dummies outside the city were becoming a regular occurrence for him he ruefully reflected as he drove his battered sword through the ant's carapace.

Twenty minutes later, he had a raging headache and the desire for a _very heated intimate session with a striking dummy_ as he watched the healer get hit with the chimera's lightning for the _fifth time_.

"Remember, purple eyes in, blue out, and if a glowy ball is chasing you maybe _run away, genius_!"

The tiny man looked petrified.

"S..sorry! I keep trying to make the fairy behave and I… there's so much I need to do and remember.."

"... whatever" Alacran groaned, and focused on trying to kill the chimera as soon as possible just to get away from this level of _incompetence_.

  
  


The next dungeon he held his breath as people joined his party, and heaved a sigh of relief as his healer turned out to be a hyur girl bearing an astrolabe.

Soon, however, he was holding his breath because his health was agonizingly _low._

He stalwartly used his defensive skills as cleverly as possible, but the girl could barely keep him alive the entire time. How they managed to survive Batraal would forever be a mystery.

All he remembered was his vision going faint from blood loss, and dark puddles of gunk opening beneath his feet perpetually. The thud of the summoner hitting the floor with a sickening crunch, and the white face of the astrologian as she barely managed to resurrect him. 

He couldn't even enjoy the satisfaction of gaining more gear afterwards. 

It was too slutty for him anyway. He understood the appeal but...he was not a nipples out, bulge out kind of guy.

All in all, his healers seemed to be getting worse, not better he reflected that night as he drowned his sorrows at Momodi's bar. It was a change the paladin desperately needed- all the striking dummies were being repaired thanks to his excessive use anyway.

As Alacran tossed back his fifth rolanberry lassi of the night, he realized he almost missed that white mage.

"At...at least she actually paid attention to what was going on… and I never bled out."

"...." 

"Maybe I need...friends. Ones who know what they're doing. But shite, how do I _do that?_ "

The xaela stared glumly into his empty cup. 

"Hey, Mistress Momodi?"

"No more for you, young man!"

He shot a glare at her, but the tiny proprietress only shot one back and stuck her finger out at him.

"Any more lassi and your feces will be _ridiculous_ tomorrow!"

Alacran blinked. 

"Heh. You got it, _mother."_

Momodi wrinkled her nose at that and laughed long and hard.

"That's an adventurer's name, not mine!"

"You...met an adventurer named.. Mother?"

"Sure did, she came in here for dozens of crafting leves a while ago.. something about needing to craft in order to open a free company? I just remembered her on account of the name. Tall for one of my folk though-and tan as anything!"

Alacran smirked. 

"That sounds a bit like a white mage I once met, but if her name was Mother I'd have laughed to her face. Who names their child a _title?_ "

"Who indeed…" Momodi serenely responded while whisking his cup away to wash.

Alacran stared ruefully at the space where his cup used to be, before giving in.

"Night then, Mistress. I've got an engagement tomorrow anyway, so it's probably for the best that you've bullied me to bed."

  
  


As it turned out, he ought to have stayed in bed.

The Aurum Vale turned out to be a horrific place, filled with irritating frogs that tried to lasso him in with their tongues, and the piss-colored puddles his foot kept slipping in _smelt awful_ and _felt worse_.

"If this is monster piss I _swear_ I will eviscerate Nedrick…" he hissed as he gathered up lilies of the vale off of the dimwitted black mage who had wandered into their sights. The scholar peered timidly at him over the edge of his book.

"Actually...I think it's bile?"

The paladin blinked at him incredulously.

"Is...that worse or better to know?" continued the scholar, while dragging his fairy over to Alacran by its wings.

Alacran found his voice.

"Somehow, better… I think...OH FOR RHALGR'S SAKE, BARD, STOP STANDING OFF TO THE SIDE, DO YOU WANT THIS WHOLE CAVERN OF MONSTERS TO DESCEND UPON US???!!"

The bard squeaked like a mouse-despite being a miqo'te- and edged in… too late.

All the cave's monstrous inhabitants surged forward towards the blundering group.

Alacran smiled the long enduring smile that he reserved for the very _worst_ of ul'dahn inhabitants.

"Start praying to your patron deity, scholar."

Whatever deity protected the scholar certainly wasn't listening that day, for soon the party found themselves running out of the caves, abandoning the mission when the monsters turned out to be overwhelming.

Finally, when they had lost them and stood panting in the bitter air of Coerthas, the scholar turned to Alacran quietly.

"No offense, but I give up. This place sucks. And these damage dealers…"

Alacran nodded ruefully.

Back to square one. 

Capable friends.

_Shite._

  
  


"Hello, old friend" grinned Alacran as he drew his sword and approached the striking dummy.

If the striking dummy had a face it would probably look resigned to its fate at this point, he reflected, winding up to execute his well-worn flurry of attacks.

"...so that accursed Momodi said to _join an fc_ and ask their folk for help with the Aurum Vale...that went beyond poorly." The au'ra grimaced, wondering if he was really reduced to ranting to _striking dummies._

"I mean… they all were either politely silent or pretending to be busy! I know the place is sodding _awful_ but still!"

He finished his combo with an indignant flourish and collapsed onto his back.

The night sky above the Sagoli was a beautiful tapestry of glittering purple-green stars, and he took a moment to relish it. 

Only a moment though, and then the rolanberry lassi lust kicked in.

".... curse lalafell and their delicious drinks…"

Three lassis later found the lonely paladin spilling his heart out to, irony of ironies, a lalafell. 

"I..only trust you Momodi...because you're a barkeep and their job's to...listen to idiots nicely. The rest of 'em can bite it. I don't trust any of those guys in the syndicate, let me tell you!"

Momodi serenely smiled and wiped glasses with the grace of a saint.

Several glasses later, Alacran found his eyes drooping and his mind slipping away. Which was frankly incredible considering lassis aren’t made with alcohol. Maybe they had some kind of chamomile in them… or Momodi was roofieing him.

He stumbled his way into his inn room and slumped onto the slightly lumpy bed. 

“I’m just...going to wait outside that blasted cavern tomorrow until people come along who need it enough to listen to what I say…”

  
  


That plan turned out to be somewhat brilliant, as he now found himself shivering in the snow with a really buff, _really hot_ roegadyn black mage and a silent elezen bard who kept dozing off. 

“Oi, don’t fall asleep too long” Alacran grumbled, poking the pale duskwight. “You’ll die if you do.”

The elezen blinked blearily. “Just until a healer comes...please…”

“Right...about that. Should I go up to Dragonhead and ask around in case there’s any healers passing through?” 

The glorious roegadyn lady nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll hold down the fort”

_Hold me down later too_ he mentally responded, then shook himself. 

“Right. ‘M off.”

He rode Rain hard through the crisp snow, relishing the fresh air. Snow may be a crock of shite but there was something to be said for a snappy, whistling wind. Reminded him of the Steppe.

Dragonhead loomed all too soon. He cantered into the tiny outpost, dismounted ‘round by the fire because Thal’s balls he was cold… and nearly landed atop a lalafell cooking.

“OI! What’s the idea! You’re going to be killed, cooking out of sight like that!” he sputtered, thrown off guard. Rain reared and screeched at his discomfort behind him. 

The lalafell blinked blankly up at him, a skewered fish sizzling in her hand. 

“I’ve got to cook these fish, nitwit. See any other fire around here?” 

She locked her pupiless grey eyes with his ringed ones...until both creatures narrowed their eyes in recognition.

“You’re that pal-”

“You’re that white-”

“Well fancy meeting you in a place like this!” she burst out brightly, tossed the still sizzling fish into her bag and rose, brushing her tiny hands off on her rough apron.

“Yeah...say, seen any white mages around here that might be interested in the Aurum Vale?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Oh. Are you?”

“Nah, I hate that place, but for your sake, sure!”

He took a step back. 

“Are you...sure? I just did the longstop with you _once._ It’s been months. I was real bad back then too...”

“So was I. But now I’ve got all the robes of a full-fledged white mage!” she smiled, and pulled a shimmering, pearly soul stone out of her bag. 

He leaned down, interested despite himself. He’d only ever seen his own little blue stone. 

Where his was sharper edges, and a diamond sort of shape, hers was a rounded egg that fit smoothly in her palms. A ripple of aether, and then her rough culinarian’s garb was replaced by radiant red and white robes. 

“Right, off we go then? Got room on your chocobo?” she asked, pulling a staff out of nowhere and hooking it over her back.

“No...Rain’s pretty small.”

“No problem!”

She pulled out a amber-red whistle and then… 

A _massive_ ruby chocobo thundered its way down the slope to her side. A huge saddle graced its back, and she slapped it on the arse while beaming his way. 

“Hop on, she can take us both!”

  
  


He felt like a resplendent hero, arriving back at the cave mouth on such a huge mount. 

His two party members certainly looked awed to see such a grand arrival.

“Hiya!” called out the lalafell to them as she jumped off the bird. Alacran followed down in a daze. 

It only occurred to him after the chocobo cantered away that he could have helped her down if he’d gotten off first.

Introductions took little time, and soon they were pressing onwards into the cave.

This time Alacran drew on all his disastrous experience and dragged the monsters to the very edge of the cave. The black mage and bard actually _used their brains_ and pressed themselves to the wall with him, staying far away from patrolling frogs.

And the white mage...he sucked in a breath as he felt Aero whisk past him to wrap the enemies with slicing winds. And then, glory of glories, then rained Holy down from the heavens.

He’d heard Holy was a boon to tanks, but had never been lucky enough to have a White Mage who knew it...until now. The enemies practically _melted_ under its ceaseless rain and he almost felt turned on with how _smooth_ the party’s murder spree was going.

Alacran realized his mouth was gaping a bit and slammed it shut, and redoubled his efforts to assist in grouping the monsters and batter them down.

Coincounter wasn’t quite as smooth- the bard sometimes got hit by the monster’s stare, and then just as they nearly had him, the bastard managed to clip Alacran with one of its insane spin attacks.

He felt the life drain out of him immediately as it smashed in his ribs. 

_Not Dzemael again...please_ he mentally groaned, too much in pain to speak. He hoisted his sword with trembling hands as the blood seeped through his shirt, anxious to at least keep its attention off the black mage long enough for her to deliver the finishing blow. 

_We’ll die together, bitch_ he vowed to Coincounter, and plunged forward for one more feeble blow.

“No dying on my watch!” shouted a voice that pierced his fading consciousness as his sword stroked downward.

Suddenly, vitality surged in him and the blood roared in his ears as his bones re-knit themselves under the caress of healing magic. His stroke became sure and steady, and as he delivered Rage Of Halone strong and true to Coincounter’s filthy gut, the black mage limit break rained down fire from the heavens.

The monster collapsed, and as the smoke cleared, the damage dealers cheered. 

But Alacran locked eyes with the white mage, whose chest was heaving just as heavily as his own. 

“Huff...thanks. Thought I was a goner.” he managed after a moment. 

“Haha, nobody dies on my watch. Even if you’re almost gone, I’ll get you back!” she cheered, twirling her cane in a strange little victory dance.

Alacran looked at her, and for once, he completely believed a lalafell.

“Let’s go then.”

  
  


He nearly lost consciousness more times than he could count, and he’d definitely need a new shirt later, but somehow his ragged band made it all the way through the caverns filled with bile, sentient plants, and a plethora of burrs to stand before Miser’s Mistress. He could almost smell the gold on the other side of this final cavern.

“Once more, team!” he called out and plunged forward.

Once more, his white mage called out battle plans-”Eat the fruit now! Dodge that attack!”-but they didn’t rankle the way they did back in the Longstop. This time he just trusted that nothing was behind them except the sheer want to stay alive and kill the enemy.

And together, they did just that.

Once again, he collapsed on the ground after Miser’s Mistress wheezed out one last wretched scream and perished by his blade.

“Ha..haha” Alacran chuckled lowly, staring into one of the fetid puddles as he caught his breath. 

“I’m never coming back...” he muttered, spitting into the gold bile in disgust.

Behind him, he heard the creak of the treasure chest being opened, and the clank of loot being pulled out. 

He closed his eyes and waited patiently.

Metal crashed at his feet, and he smiled up at his healer. 

“Shield this time!” she informed him, shoving her red, _cute_ spectacles up her tiny nose.

“Thanks.”

“No problem!” she grinned widely.

“Say… I never got your name.” he realized.

“Huh, neither did I, come to think of it.”

He pulled himself up onto his knees to look her in the eyes.

“Alacran.”

“Mother” she beamed back.

He blinked. 

“There’s no way I’m calling you Mother. Isn’t there anything else?” 

She tapped her chin in thought. 

“I kind of...threw away my old name, so I’ve just been telling people to call me Mother, since I’ve been going around adopting children…”

His heart turned over. 

“I also… got a new name later in life.” he quietly admitted, leaning in without realising.

“Ho then, comrade!” she laughed merrily.

“...I really can’t think of anything, so maybe my favorite color-teal?”

Alacran narrowed his eyes.

“Just a color is strange. Make it a little fancy.”

She narrowed hers back. 

“Alright then, change the spelling, teal to... T i e l”

A slow smile curved its way on both their faces before Tiel broke the silence.

“We should really save the heart to heart for _after_ we get out of here. I fancy a nice drink at the Quicksand, how about you?”

Alacran stood up. 

“I can vouch for the rolanberry lassi.”


	2. Interlude: Awls & Needles.

“You’re  _ late, Mother _ !” snapped Tiel’s free company leader as she slid into the house, a stack of leather piled high on her hands.

“I know!” she responded cheerfully, dumping it all on the table in the exact messy way she knew would drive the man up the wall.

His eyebrow twitched, predictably, and he bit his thin lips in barely concealed wrath.

She snorted at him, and pulled out her awl.

“Let’s get to it!”

As she processed leather piece by piece, her mind drifted to more interesting avenues.

_ An Au Ra, this far from home… Well, he seems alright, if a little pissy. _

Something niggled at her conscience.

She laid down her awl.

"Ardran, do we have any spare money?" 

The lalafell looked up from his leather-stitching suspiciously.

"What horrendous piece of home decor are you eying now??"

"Oh! So you knew I wanted new vases-"

He leveled a wrung-out glare at her and clicked his tongue.

Tiel laughed and raised her hands appeasingly.

"I honestly just need a few medical texts. I met an Au Ra for the second time today and I'm ashamed to say I didn't know much about his musculature, so if he'd gotten truly mortally wounded...well, it wouldn't have been good."

The man raised an chestnut eyebrow and maintained his steady pace of stitching.

"Do you  _ really _ think you're going to meet such an oddity yet again?"

Tiel thought back to the fellow, in all his imposing, mostly silent glory. His manner of bearing a shield, and the style of his sword strikes reminded her of the paladins in Ul'dah, just 'round the corner, and he did make a fine drinking partner...

"I just might." she grinned, throwing the freshly cut leather piece on his pile, knocking it over in the process.

"OIII I'M GOING TO UNLEASH TITAN EGI ON YOUUUU!!!" the little man snapped, reaching for his summoning tome.

"Hah, just try! I'll Fluid Aura you to the seventh hell and back!" Tiel gaily sang out, brandishing her wand in return.

They huffed a tense breath, staring each other down sternly and then simultaneously broke down laughing.

"You're the worst woman I know." Ardran groaned, dropping the tome and returning to his needle.

Tiel snickered quietly. 

"I'm aware."

"Two hundred gil."

"That's barely enough for twenty  _ pages _ !"

“So help me, that’s all you deserve.”


	3. Free Company Or: "Why am I here?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is uhhhh  
> *checks google docs*  
> the fifth oneshot i wrote. of course i wrote the middle before i wrote this beginning.  
> let the eternal struggle of social awkwardness begin for our hero

Life was _good._

Alacran may not have had a permanent residence, any family, or a steady job aside from part time guard duty with the sultansworn, but he had a _friend_ now who wasn't intimidated by the seven fulms tall, covered in scales thing.

A friend that seemed to roll into the Quicksand about twice a week, peculiarly garbed in a little cowl or a straw sun hat and ask if he wanted to come on an adventure.

Today it was the cowl, and a tiny thaumaturge stave rested on her back.

He looked down at her, vividly unimpressed.

"Don't tell me you've abandoned your white magery for thaumaturgy? One is more likely to keep me alive than the other.."

He clamped a hand over his mouth.

_Oops._

It was one thing to sass her when he barely knew her, but now that they were friends...probably… it wouldn't be good to lace into her constantly.

But the lalafell only smiled, and shucked her little violet black mage soulstone into her pack, drawing out the familiar white egg-stone in turn.

“Don’t worry” she assured him, as the usual white mage robes appeared on her in a flash. She drew up the hood of the robe with smooth familiarity, and settled the weight of her staff comfortably between her shoulders.

“It’s just for learning Swiftcast. Apparently, I’m a failure of a healer if I don’t have it, so I’ve had to branch out-sodding annoying it is, though! I had to sneak through a gauntlet of mages using sleeping spells to knock them out!”

Alacran’s sword hand twitched.

“Should’ve invited me” he grumbled as he followed behind her out to the aetheryte plaza.

”And where would be the challenge in _that?_ ” she called over her shoulder merrily.

He scratched his neck scales. 

“Riight.”

A bell later, the pair were standing outside the Sastasha Seagrot. 

Alacran sniffed the air thoughtfully.

“Smells different than before, those pirates are definitely here.”

His companion stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“You can _smell_ them?”

He blinked.

“Yeah? Well, not exactly, it’s just that it’s definitely different, so Reyner’s probably spot on the money.”

She stared in disbelief. 

“Alright then, mister bloodhound. Hidden talents I guess”

“You’re one to talk, secretly a master of _every type of crafting._ ” he groused back, slicing his way into the first pack of disgusting sea-creatures that had run to greet them.

“Ooo yes, what a terrible secret to hide indeed” she fired back, twirling into a holy cast.

"I never would have found out if you hadn't offered to meld my armor out of the blue! I've never _seen_ you touch a piece of armor before!"

"Because it's ugly!"

"Is not! It's dashing, practical, _regal._ "

"If it doesn't show off the figure to a certain effect, it's no good!" She asserted ferociously, gesturing to her current outfit of an admittedly well-fitted dalamud-red tunicy thing with poofy feathery sleeves, and white thigh high socks.

Pity she wasn't taller and curvier, like regular women-it would probably have looked spectacular on Yshtola or something... 

_Oh for Althyk’s sake, she doesn't even have discernable knees!_

"You _have_ no figure to show off!" He shot back, still too massively affronted by her lack of respect for armor to mind his mouth.

She glared at him from mid air during her chain of Holies. 

"I'll have you know that I have the largest chest of _any_ lalafell I've met!"

He blinked at this sudden, ridiculous statement.

"What is it, the mass of a chigoe bite?" 

She wavered a moment, her mouth quirking upwards, then succumbed to a chuckle.

"Alright, fair, pretty much! But _still._ I'm also quite elegantly tall for a lalafell, don't tell me you haven't noticed-what with your keen eye and all"

He fielded a heavy blow from a pirate whose head seemed to be some sort of sea creature, and thought for a moment.

He rarely saw her in the company of other lalafell, if he was being honest. Maybe in her free company there were some, but she seemed to avoid lalafellin company in general. He constructed a mental Mistress Momodi-an excellent standard for lalafell- and compared Tiel to her.

Ah.

"Alright, I guess you are… 'elegantly tall'" he groaned, dispatching yet another disgusting sea-man- _heh-_ with a clean stab.

She grinned in triumph, and fell silent, seeing to his wounds from afar.

The lively pair plunged deeper into the depths of the seagrot, but as the path wound down closer and closer to the sparkling, swirling water, Alacran began to notice that Tiel was lagging behind him, picking her way meticulously through the center of the path.

“You seem on edge” he noted as he took down yet another of the blasted sirens that seemed to be _everywhere._

She jolted and then blurted “I have no idea what you’re talking about!" while skipping over a puddle with a cheerful grin.

"Mhmm" he drawled, eying her obvious furtive glances around.

_How far is too far to push?_

They wound their way down to the water's edge as he pondered that meaty question, before coming to a halt at a dead end.

"What now?" Tiel asked softly, peering out from behind his legs at the frothy pools.

"Not sure...how are you at swimming?"

“I don’t.”

“At all?” He raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"At all." She asserted, stepping away from the water with a little, just a tiny shiver.

_Oho_.

Then he noticed a contraption with rusted over gears and smirked.

“Looks like you might not have to endure me throwing you in after all.”

She let out an indignant squawk as he strode over to the device and cranked the ancient levers.

Sure enough, the cavern drained quickly, revealing an under-sea world of luminescent corals and glowing cavern walls.

Alacran spun around triumphantly, giving his companion a mock-bow.

"Behold, the source of your fear is eliminated-more or less. It's still a sea cave, so there's water regardless…"

His voice faded off as she looked even _more_ uncomfortable.

"It's so… gross-looking" she muttered, taking a tentative step forward, eying the plants down below.

He burst out laughing before he could stop it, peals of hoarse laughter echoing all the way down through the cavern.

The sea-creatures down-path shifted uneasily to hear it.

Tiel made a face at him that resembled a wilting flower. 

"Must you?"

"Sorry, sorry!" He wheezed, wiping away a tear.

"It's just...I've seen you clean out wounds with your bare hands, watched you never even flinch as that miqote's arm snapped _in half_ right in front of you last week… and you draw the line at _water and coral??_ "

She shrugged, and collected herself.

"I just hate it. The ocean. Always have. It's too _deep._ I don't like any water I can't see the bottom of, and the things that lurk under the surface I like even _less._ "

She strode past him, knuckles white around her staff.

"But you're right!" She called over her shoulder.

"It _is_ silly, and we do have a job to do! Let's go!"

"Not even a thank you?" He muttered, before running to catch up.

The rest of the dungeon went..not exactly _smoothly,_ per se-the little lalafell seemed to freeze in her tracks whenever the cave decided to get slimier, wetter, or more luminescent-but they eventually battled their way up to the Captain's quarters.

And then the pirate captain summoned a _giant octopus._

"Oh Nophica" Tiel breathed weakly at his side, turning slightly green even as the captain was comically swatted away into the ocean, unable to control the flailing of his own beast.

“Alright there?” Alacran offered, still overly amused at her distaste.

“Not...particularly” she muttered, summoning up an Aero to slice the beast up with.

Alacra launched himself into battle, hacking away at the beast's tentacles that threatened to slap the pair around, only to hear a massive shriek from behind him.

He spun around to see his diminutive healer being snatched up by a particularly _grabby_ tentacle. Her face was an indescribable mixture of disgust and horror.

"GET. ME. DOWN." she bit out, using her own staff to pry against the suckers that were gripping her fast.

Ruefully, he leapt across to her writhing captor, and hacked away at its base until the thing was forced to let her go so it could re-submerge itself to heal its wounds.

She fell with an undignified _squelch_ on the wet ground, slime oozing through her hair and coating her clothes.

He extended a sympathetic hand, which she accepted with a death grip. He dragged her up, and met her suddenly ice-cold gaze. 

" _We_ are going to go hit its sodding head until it dies of _brain damage_ -if sea creatures indeed _have brains._ You _will_ protect me from any further tentacles, and _then we are never, ever coming back here._ "

He managed to nod solemnly, even though in his head he was laughing hysterically.

Tiel, for her part, proceeded to _eviscerate_ the creature by pelting its yellow eyes with rocks until the eyeballs collapsed in a disgusting spray of unmentionable liquids.

He shuddered at the sight, but evidently he had inadvertently found at least one limit to her immense good graces.

"VICTORY!" she screamed at the ocean as the creature let out a death shudder and sank beneath the waves.

It had a hint of unhingement to it, but her terrifying methodology was undeniably effective.

Slowly she turned around, minuscule chest heaving.

"That-"

She poked at the ocean with her staff.

"This-"

She gestured wildly at the surrounding sea cave.

"Is _never going to happen again._ Now get out of my way, I am going to take five baths and get _immensely drunk._ "

"What about the treasure?" He called to her departing form.

She didn't even turn around.

"KEEP IT."

-=-=-

After that tentacle debacle, he decided it would be best if he knew much more about his pocket-sized healer, so he began observing her. Closely.

Sure he could have _asked,_ but that seemed _difficult._

Late at night, when he couldn’t sleep because it was too quiet without inane chatter to fill the hours, he would lay in his lumpy inn bed and review his growing list of points.

Point One: 

She always sat at the bar in the Quicksand, her back turned to the room, and her head covered. Most people who are _wanted_ like to sit with their backs to the _wall._ Which meant that she was hiding from someone, but that they weren't actively on the hunt.

Maybe an overzealous suitor? Did lalafell do bride stealing? Was someone on the prowl?

He knew shite-all about lalafell, having blanket hatred for them up until a few moons ago.

Point Two: She was helping a friend get his free company off the ground, a point which she had divulged herself after the umpteenth linkshell call mid-dungeon. It seemed to involve a _ton_ of leather making-what leather had to do with a free company, he had no idea.

Point Three: She'd somehow managed to master every type of crafting imaginable, while he could barely stitch a loose button back on his britches. It was frankly a little terrifying.

Point Four: She was afraid of water. Rivers seemed alright, but the ocean terrified her. What about deep water? A lake? Sea creatures and coral-all the accoutrements of the ocean basically-were out as well. Did she eat seafood? Or would a plate of sashimi terrify her? Pity he didn't know how to prepare it, he'd love to see her face…

  
  


That was all he had for the time being, and so he would fall into a dreamless sleep-well, almost dreamless.

Sometimes, rare nights he'd dream of chasing down the monsters he'd fought that day, and driving an arrow into their eyes.

All the dungeon-clearing was clearly taking its toll.

  
  


His next point of interest came, surprisingly after yet another day of _return to the Waking Sands._

Minfillia seized him upon arrival and pulled him into her office warmly.

"Right, what's up?" He growled at the indomitable blonde as she did her version of beaming from ear to ear-a gentle smirk and a shiny glint in her eye.

"Alacran, we'd like you to work with another of Hydaelyn's chosen for your next mission."

Piss and vinegar. He didn't mind working with Thancred or Yda, much as they liked to take little...side trips to gawk at ladies or fried food stands respectively, but another one of Hydaelyn's supposedly chosen heroes? He could barely believe he was one himself-it was really only the occasional bouts of Echo that reminded him he was apparently more than a Xaela stranded in the desert, far from home.

What did a _proper_ one look like?

Minfillia continued on blasely.

"She might be hard to work with, but I have full faith that someone who even managed to ascend the ranks of the Sultansworn as a complete outsider to Ul'dah may manage, and having a white mage at your back is an immense benefi-"

A knock sounded at the door then, and Minfillia rose up to open it eagerly.

Alacran stood, rooted in place.

_Shite, it's going to be one of those snooty horned healer people from Gridania I can't handle thisss..._

A low voice came from behind him as the door opened.

"This had better be important, Minfillia, I was in the middle of making Urianger scrambled eggs because you and I both _know he doesn't eat properly-_ "

Minfillia cut off the strangely familiar person quickly with the worn ease of a diplomat.

"Now, now, you know the importance of meeting allies that you’ll be working with.”

“Yes, yes.” they sighed, voice drawing closer.

He spun around, unable to bear the suspense of his imminent frustration a moment longer.

No middling height, horned individual met his gaze as he stared at the empty space next to Minfilia. 

“Down here, nitwit” grumbled the voice, the voice that he _definitely_ knew.

He craned his neck downwards, and there she was, Tiel in all her knee-high glory, wrapped in an oily culinarian’s apron and still holding a spatula.

He narrowed his golden eyes at her.

“You.”

“You.” she smirked back, waving the spatula in greeting.

Minfillia cleared her throat.

“Do you two...know each other…?”

“YES” they chimed in unison.

Minfillia shrugged. 

“Well, I guess that makes life easier! Now what I need you two to do is go talk to Urianger-not about eggs, I see that glint in your eye, Mother- about moogles.”

“Yes ma’am” Tiel sighed, and smacked Alacran on the leg with her spatula.

“Let’s heave to, big guy.”

Minfillia’s eyebrows shot up and she watched the pair of them almost eagerly.

Alacran narrowed his eyes at her royal shitestirrerness and shrugged easily in her direction.

_Not about to let myself get antagonized in front of you when I’ve got a pristine track record thus far._

Urianger looked positively stricken to see them together, but concealed his disease behind one of his massive tomes, and explained that a “Good King Moggle Mog” had somehow, unfortunately been resurrected-news to which Tiel sighed a sigh with all the weight of the world behind it.

“You ever fight that guy?” she asked wearily, peering up at Alacran in the thin light of the Waking Sands.

“Nope.” he offered back half heartedly. It was distracting-how naturally she seemed to fit into the low light of the Waking Sands, oily apron and all. Like she’d always been here, behind all the crates, and he’d just happened to miss her every moment until now.

“Well, prepare for annoyance!” 

Urianger winced sympathetically, and then turned to his precious books yet again, glad to have someone else to do the dirty work.

Tiel narrowed her eyes at the retiring scholar, and quickly whisked away into a side room, gesturing for the paladin to stay where he was for a second.

Alacran stood in front of Urianger somewhat awkwardly, before clearing his throat.

“Thanks for the uh. Recommendations. They’ve been a good read so far.”

Urianger looked up, a vague smile playing on his shadowed lips.

“Thou art most welcome-mayhap we could partake in literary debate at some more fortunate date?”

The xaela gulped.

Literary discussions with a man of such loquacity seemed like a headache.

Before he could brush the elezen off, however, Tiel returned, bearing a veritable platter of scrambled eggs, toast and sausage.

“Uriangeeeer!!” she called sweetly, standing on tip-toes to slide the dish onto the crate nearest to the scholar.

Urianger turned a vaguely weary gaze towards the platter.

“Dost mine eyes deceive me, or hast thou created a break-fast at this, the fourteenth bell?”

The lalafell delivered the man a smirk that could only be described as ranking up there with the evil grins of the greediest Syndicate members.

“Ahem! Thou art far too thin, mine fine scholarly companion, and thusly, this is a _motherly order_ to eat thine body-weight in eggs ere I return, lest my _fine fury_ rest upon thine shoulders!”

Alacran kept his jaw firmly in place and his lips at his most professional standstill as the Elezen jerked in his seat with dismay.

Tiel turned her triumphant gaze to her newly-dubbed compatriot in arms, and extended a hand.

“Shall we be off, Ser Cero?” she giggled.

He licked his lips.

“Aye.”

They beat a hasty retreat, and Alacran resisted the heady urge to crane his head back for a glimpse of Urianger eating toast with disdain.

Tiel for her part, seemed to be stifling snickers as she skipped on ahead of him.

She waited until they were solidly outside of the building and then spun around, hands planted merrily on her hips.

"First of all! I _cannot believe_ all this time I could have been shooting the breeze with you instead of listening to Papalymo going on ragers about _aetheric theory_!!"

Alacran chuckled joyously, striding forwards.

“I don’t mind Thancred and Yda but you are vastly less _horny and stupid…_ ”

They shot each other a mischievous glance that hung in the air like summer fireworks.

“Now I have someone-” Alacran burst out just as Tiel chortled.

“We can _gossip_ -”

“YESS”

“Do you think Urianger does _anything_ besides read?”

“I really think the man lives off of words and little else. Knows some good novels though!”

Tiel threw back her head and laughed heartily.

“I’m glad it was you. I suspected it might be though, considering the rumors of a sword-bearing Au Ra joining the cause- not too many of your kind around yet!”

"I just thought you would be one of those annoying horn people. Was _not_ looking forward to that prospect" he sighed, rolling his shoulders as he strode merrily towards Rain.

-=-=-

Moggle Mog truly _was_ a giant annoyance, just as Tiel foretold, but it was an annoyance made a little better by the fact that she was there, since she actually had the brain to dodge out of the way of attacks and heal him when the two little tank-moogles beat him down.

Still, the whole party they’d recruited breathed a sigh of relief when King Moggle bit the dust to an enthusiastic black mage limit break.

He came up beside Tiel as she opened the coffer...to reveal monk fists.

“Again??” she yelled incredulously.

He stifled a snort.

“I must say, if this is the result of us working together officially, I am pleased” he offered stiffly, suddenly not quite sure if the official-ness of their new partnership _changed_ anything.

She wrinkled her nose up at him. 

“You’re pleased with the lack of a new sword when yours is so beat-up?”

The paladin looked down at his worn blade, then at the ridiculous moogle-style fists.

The pom-poms taunted him.

“Somehow, yes.”

He lay happily in bed that night.

Point Five: A Scion, and battle-companion in earnest.

He rolled over and dreamt of driving his sword up moogle arse.

-=-=-

His answer to the question of his first point came quite unexpectedly a week later.

Morning light was just breaking over the Sagolii, and inside the Quicksand, Alacran was blearily consuming an apkallu omelette, washed down with gritty tea. 

_Sodding sand gets everywhere._

The Quicksand was just beginning to warm up, with every crash of the doors as fresh-faced adventurers plunged in, begging the levemete for jobs.

Tiel slid onto the stool next to him silently.

"Morning" he yawned around a mouthful of tea.

"Morning. Oi, lad, toast...please. And coffee, strong as possible."

The young lalafell boy behind the counter scoped out her worn face, and nodded seriously, rushing to heap an obscene amount of coffee beans into the pour-over flask.

"Did you not...sleep last night?" He ventured, in between sandy egg bites.

She groaned, and rolled her neck back and forth. A volley of audible bone-cracks sounded, and her cowl slid off her head with all the jerking around.

"We were-my free company that is-crafting a bunch of needed furnishings for the house. Crafting benches and the like. I ended up going to bed so late that I can't say I had a night's sleep so much as a nap. And now we have to go kill Ifrit _again_.."

She accepted a plate of crispy toast and proceeded to lather it with jam.

"So no. I did not sleep."

"They seem to work you hard.." he noted, grimacing as a particularly large lump of sand revealed itself between his teeth.

She glared at him.

"I _owe him_ \- oh thanks for the coffee- _and so I'm just doing my best_ -"

"Why, as I live and breathe…"

A haughty voice interrupted them from behind, and Alacran watched as every hint of color fled Tiel's face in a heartbeat.

"It seems to me I've heard that very phrase before-only upon your _father's_ lips, _Momono Mono_."

Tiel looked positively ill, staring down at her half-eaten toast unseeingly.

Alacran felt a surge of something protective rise in his breast, and he placed a gentle hand on her head-hopefully calming- and turned himself to face whoever it was.

A middling height lalafell met his gaze. 

_No trace of elegantly tall on him._

Only overly rich- clothes embroidered with gold, and rings of the same, overdone metal.

The man reeked of everything he still hated in lalafell- an overdeveloped sense of superiority, and an obvious lust for riches.

"What business do you have with her?" He demanded.

_And why has she gone grey at the first sight of you?_

The man grinned widely.

"The poor thing's father owed me _deeply,_ to the tune of millions of gil. I had to have an acquaintance sell off the family just to recoup some of the debt, but your little _friend_ here escaped him. _Imagine_ my surprise to hear that she'd returned to Ul'dah! How _fortunate._ "

Alacran gritted his teeth together, and drew his sword slowly, threateningly.

"I'm not a fan of slave traders, and I'm also not a fan of people who think selling off people to repay debts is _acceptable._ So I promise you, I _will_ protect her."

The glitzy lalafell looked mostly unphased, only taking a few careful steps backwards before snapping his fingers.

A few very large roegadyn men appeared instantaneously out of the morning crowd and shuffled defensively around their master. 

The lalafell smirked, sensing he had the upper hand.

"You wouldn't wish to cause a _scene_ , would you?"

"Oh, I absolutely _would_ " Alacran growled, shifting his stance to battle-ready and placing himself in front of his friend.

The man gave him a power-tripping grin, and raised a hand-

"STOP RIGHT THERE!!" screamed a familiar voice.

Alacran lowered his sword instinctually by a hair just from the sound of it.

Mistress Momodi stormed onto the scene, still wrapped in a pink, silken night-robe.

"Who on _Hyadaelyn_ is trying to start a brawl, in _my tavern,_ this early in the _morning?_ "

Her voice was terrifyingly firm, and the rich lalafell visibly winced.

"Ah, Mistress Momodi. It was not my intention to cause a scene- I simply heard that a chance to collect on a very old, _outstanding_ debt was within reach. Perhaps I've overstepped my bounds..."

The little cherry haired woman glared at him.

"You absolutely have. There will be none of your usual debt collecting done in _my place of business, Sosoyati._ Now stop harassing my customers and get _out._ "

_Three cheers for Momodi._

Sosoyati glared at Alacran and Tiel one last time, and then waved his men off begrudgingly, and turned to leave with a swoop of his overly long tunic.

"Mark my words, Momono. Now that I've found you, it's only a matter of time!"

Alacran opened his mouth to taunt back, only to be silenced by a small hand on his leg.

Tiel stepped forward and yelled across the Quicksand.

"I'LL GET YOU THE MONEY. ALL OF IT, IF YOU WAIT."

Sosoyati turned back with a sneer.

"I sincerely doubt that."

Tiel grinned shakily.

"I was planning on doing it even if you've forced my hand early. That's why I've mastered every type of crafting under the sun. So give me a few years. What's it to you, after waiting eight?"

The man considered, stroking his goatee smarmily.

"No promises."

Alacran's blood boiled over.

"If you _dare_ come after her in my sight, I swear I will gut every one of your men."

The man's eyes flicked to him, and then back to Tiel.

"No promises either way, but perhaps you'll surprise me."

With that horrid statement, he finally took his leave.

"And stay out!" called Momodi after him.

"I'm going back to bed now! Stay safe, Alacran!" Momodi smiled, giving a little wave.

He smiled back.

Tiel sighed heavily, and sank back onto the bar stool.

"Thank you" she murmured softly.

"I lost my parents to slavery, I'm not of a mind to lose you as well" Alacran offered back, sheathing his sword and returning to his tea.

"...How much did he owe?"

Tiel picked up her now-cold toast and bit in tensely.

"Millions. That's partly why I joined my friend, actually. I learned to craft to make money, but he understands the markets better than I, and real estate too…"

"I'm sure you can do it." 

"Thanks… but I won't be able to if he kidnaps me en route to meeting you… Agh, this is why I always wore hats! Now I need to what, get a mask as well? But none of that helps me if they start tracking my teleports… Unless."

She turned a contemplative face to him.

"If you join my free company, that's one aetheryte they can never use. Free company aetherytes only work for the members of that company. And from the way he was talking, he doesn't actually know what I've been doing for eight years. So he doesn't know where I live."

_And then I can keep an eye on you._

"Perfect."

He hadn't been in any _good_ free company before, so whatever hers was like, it was sure to be an improvement.

It was simple after that-she merely called up her leader on her link pearl, and had him add the xaela to the list of members.

He was a member within five minutes, and felt not an onze different.

"So do we go to your free company house to attune?"

"Nope! You should be able to just _feel it._ "

"I don't."

"Ah, you're not that magically inclined, hmm?" She laughed, taking one of his hands with her own.

"Close your eyes, and think of all the aetherytes you've attuned to. Now see if you can feel one that has a different magical signature...er, just one that feels different."

She stroked his hand in gentle circles as she spoke, and when she said "different", pressed hard on the palm.

There. A pulse of...something.

"Got it."

  
  


It was a medium-sized house in the Goblet, dyed pretty greens, yard filled with matching palms.

It was the work of moments to walk through the house to the mysterious leader's room. 

The progenitor of Tiel's overwork turned out to be a short, persnickety male lalafell, who introduced himself as "Ardran" and offered a polite bow.

Alacran did his level best not to stare at the man's headpiece- a thing he could only describe as an incredibly phallic red horn.

Tiel snickered when she caught where his gaze was directed.

"It's just a summoner thing, you'll meet more of them in time-sometimes even I dabble in it!"

"I shudder to imagine that on your head" he drawled.

  
  


It was really not much of a change, being in a free company to being alone in the Hourglass. Except the bed that Tiel whipped up for him, free of charge.

“I can’t accept this” he found himself protesting as she laid out planks of wood and pulled out a very sharp-looking planer.

“You absolutely can. Normally, I give out straw hats with flowers on them to new members, but you _definitely_ wouldn’t wear that!”

“Well, where am I going to put it? I can’t afford to have the housing association build me my own room yet.”

“I’ll put it in the basement, in the crook of the stairs!”

“That’s not...a terrible place. But _still._ ”

“Shush, let me focus. Planing is serious business!”

He shut up then and took a seat on the floor to watch her get to work shaping the wood. 

It was just as interesting to watch every careful shift of her fingers as she slid plank after plank across the planer as it had been to watch her tongue stick out in concentration as she tried to meld his armor.

_A symphony of small struggles._

Heh, he should write that one down.

Lift continued on uneventfully-whenever Tiel wasn't on the job with him, she stood around with the other free company members, looking deathly serious talking trade. He never got close in those private moments, but from the way they hunched over maps of housing wards and counted gil before returning to the workshop to hammer things long into the night...it was clear she still had a private world that wasn't meant to be breached, despite the small trove of knowledge he held.

It was a little lonely, and so he returned to his old love- hitting striking dummies.

Thankfully, the free company had an excellent striking dummy just outside the front door. 

Why it was surrounded by a veritable lakeland of ponds was a mystery, however.

But it was fine. He was fine. He still got his adventures, and his breakfasts were sand-free, thanks to Tiel's marvelous cooking skills. Best of all, they were accompanied by her drowsy early morning taunting.

Life was good.

-=-=-

And then came the pivotal Sultana's feast. 

His heart stopped cold when the Sultana collapsed from the poison-he had honed his sword for foes present, but evidently a foe beyond his reach had laid this trap.

The looks of the guards who had trained with him for months turning against him, thinking the worst of him bit at his very soul.

The evening passed in a haze of arguments, fights, and then _running, running_ , scion after scion staying behind as he and Tiel made a mad dash through the sewers next to Minfillia, Tiel at times dragging him by the hand, and other times urging him on from behind.

Almost they made it, with Minfilia yet remaining, only for her too to turn back.

"You are our hope." She whispered in the pale moonlight, before turning to make her own last stand.

Alacran tucked her words away in his heart with determination, and ran onwards.

He emerged from the ruins with a gasp, and stumbled to the ground to catch his breath for a moment, Tiel doing the same beside him.

"Just...us…left" she panted, pushing her spectacles up her nose.

Alacran cocked his head sideways, horns catching a distant familiar footstep striking the earth.

"No, it would seem Alphinaud is up ahead." He grinned, and leapt up, extending a hand to his companion.

Alphinaud was there indeed along with, surprisingly, Pipin and Brenoldt. The hyur man waved them aboard his carriage kindly, and together, they left Ul'dah behind for Black Brush Station.

All the way there, Tiel whispered urgently into her linkshell, warning Ardran to be on the lookout.

"Free company registers are freely available, if they run a search-yes, even you. Oh glory, they're home from school too, aren't they. Vacation time. Of course."

"What's going on?" Alacran hissed during a break in her conversation.

She turned a frazzled eye to him.

"I have to go help Ardran pack up the free company, and get my children."

_Of course._

The children she'd told him of so long ago in Brayflox, whom he'd never met because of boarding school.

Alphinaud looked wanly at them under the moonlight.

"Tisn't safe to go back- you live in the Goblet, yes?"

Tiel set her jaw.

"It isn't, but they're my children. You go on to safety, please-you're hardly more than a child yourself!"

Alphinaud winced at this reminder of his callowness, but nodded numbly.

Tiel rose to her feet in the swaying cart, and with a harried wave, teleported away.

The cart rolled silently onwards while Alacran battled inside himself.

On the one hand, it was his duty now, more than ever to protect what remnants there would be left of the Scions.

On the other hand, his mind was riddled with images of the Blades and Braves chasing Tiel down with their swords and slicing her in twain.

His sword hand twitched, and he sat in a fine fury all the way until Black Brush Station.

Cid, of all people awaited the ragged band, airship at hand.

Alacran stood by quietly as Pipin and Alphinaud debated the best place to flee, heart still torn.

Until Alphinaud announced that their destination would be Coerthas.

Suddenly he realized _someone_ would have to tell her.

Alacran looked Alphinaud up and down, then stood up with a rush of relief.

"I'll go tell Tiel the plan. Pipin, I'm sure you can get Alphinaud to safety."

The little soldier saluted.

Alacran took a deep breath and teleported away.

Every member of the free company seemed to be in the company yard, pale faced under the moonlight and quietly packing up chocobos.

Tiel emerged from the front door with two small miqo'te children in hand.

"Ah! What are you doing here?" She gasped, rushing forward.

"Alphinaud and Pipin are headed for Coerthas, we're to rendezvous at Dragonhead."

The two children peered up him from behind her.

"These the kids?" he asked in a softer tone.

"Yes-would you put them on my draught chocobo, please? I need to find Ardran!"

"Sure" he grunted, and hoisted the kids by the scruff of their necks, eliciting shrieks and mewls- _how very miqo'te._

A few steps and two heaves and the task was done.

The children peered at him from atop the bird with terrified eyes.

"Are the blade guys gonna catch us?" The larger one asked, fingering her black hair nervously.

"I hope not" he answered honestly. 

What do you tell kids whose world is being upturned by arsehole adults?

_The truth was all I needed back then._

Tiel reappeared then, lugging a sack which she tossed up to the girls.

"Bread and clothes. And we're going soon, darlings. Hang on."

Ardran emerged out of the darkness, holding a roll of parchment.

“The deed to the house” he stated, handing it over to Tiel brusquely. 

She clenched it in her small fist.

“You better be there to help me start it all over again.”

The other lalafell laughed tightly and adjusted his summoner’s horn.

“I’m afraid that I’ll be running further than you. The problem with being a master goldsmith is that everyone in Ul’dah knows my face, and they’ll happily tell everyone else where I am if they see me in passing. It’ll be up to you. I leave the free company in your hands.”

Her shoulders slumped.

“I’m not...a leader.”

“Nobody else has connections in Limsa like you do, nor wields the power of Hyadaelyn. I leave the torch in your hands.”

He turned to the rest of the solemn members. 

“Mount up! We’re fleeing to the hind end of Thanalan, so let’s look lively, lads!”

The company of crafters aye-ayed in unison, and dove for their birds.

-=-=-

It blew just as much running through the desert during the night as an adult as it did when he was a kid, Alacran reflected ruefully, as he narrowly edged Rain away from a cacti that had popped up out of the darkness.

He shot a sideways glance over at Tiel, who was grimly hanging on to the draught chocobo for dear life-the saddle being taken up by the kids.

"Where are we going?” he called over, pulling to a halt at the divide in the road between Nophica’s Wells and the pass to Central Thanalan.

Tiel drew the bird up short, brow furrowed under the moonlight.

"Let's split up. We can meet in Limsa at a later point after I take care of business. For me, it's easy to hide- I need only dye my hair again and put on some slutty clothes instead of my robes. But for someone like you, it'll be much harder. It would be best for you to move alone up to the Twelveswood and cut through to Coerthas to draw the least attention possible."

He stared, not used to a word like “slutty” sliding off her tiny tongue, before slowly processing the demand, only to be interrupted part way.

“I’m...I’m _so sorry_ about this!”

Tiel exclaimed, scratching at her scalp as the children whimpered, sensing the emotional turmoil in the air.

“We might both be chosen by Hydaelyn as her champions but that doesn’t mean you should have been caught up in the free company's exit from Ul’dah- you should be already safe in Coerthas helping Alphinaud, not _escorting_ me through the desert! It’s none of your business how we break up our free company and reconstruct it!” She buried her face in her hands and screamed a very quiet scream. 

_Ah… even now I’m still not a company member in her eyes…_

He took a moment to admire her dedication to stealth even in screaming and then bore down on her with the force of reason, much as the words cost him dearly to say.

"None of that. I was...technically a member too, and you needed to be informed. Now, we'd best move. I'll take care of the boy, you go settle whatever needs to be done and then join me."

"Right." she bit out, and slapped her reins, rounding the bird towards the bridge.

"See you again." He called out, and then gave Rain her head north-bound.

-=-=-

It had been a long journey, with many a close call as he slipped through Thanalan, but the desert was his old pounding ground, and he knew its rocks and gulches intimately.

_Thanks, Grandpa._

He felt on edge as he slipped through Gridania by night. There were too many footsteps in the woods, too many crackings of twigs. Nobody caught up to him, for Rain was a _splendid bird yes you areee I will feed you so many vegetables when this is over_.

At long last, the weary night came to an end and the air grew ever colder as he neared Coerthas.

The guards waved him down at the entrance to the Observatorium.

“Lord Haurchefaunt awaits you, Ser Cero! Go on towards Dragonhead!”

“Thank you! It’s been a long night!” called the xaela back, heart cheering to see at least one friendly face in the early dawn light.

Dragonhead loomed in its familiar glory, and he hopped off Rain, patting her gently.

“Rest now… thank you for getting me through.” he smiled, a lump in his throat as he handed off the reins to a stable girl.

_One companion left with me._

He spilled through the door into Haurchefaunt’s quarters, shaking off snow and a hidden tear or two to see Alphinaud at the table, head in his hands. 

_And here’s one more fool._

Quietly he crept up behind the boy, and then, seeing the boy’s shoulders heave, exchanged his plan of a head pat for a surprise hug.

“WhUUh??” Alphinaud sputtered, trying to stand in shock but failing desperately beneath the weight of Alacran’s arms.

“It’s your local paladin.” He smiled at the back of the boy’s head.

“Ah! Cero! Thank the Twelve!" 

Alphinaud exclaimed, shoulders going lax in his grasp.

Alacran took a seat and regaled the boy with the tale of his particular night, especially impressing upon the boy how their white mage would be occupied for a bit.

“Tis enough that she is safe” the boy exclaimed softly, eyes brimming in the firelight.

Haurchefant chose that moment to appear, hot chocolate in hand and a gentle smile on his handsome face.

After drinking with the very lovely Haurchefant, who was just as charming, assuring and _flirtatious_ as always, and who generously offered to have his family take them in, Alacran shepherded Alphinaud to a bed.

"Rest well, tomorrow morning I'll make sure the wind doesn't whip you and Tataru straight off the bridge to Ishgard"

The short elezen smiled up at him, though no mirth danced in his eyes.

"Thank you. Goodnight."

Alacran blew out the candle, and slipped into the next bed over.

"Alacran?" Alphinaud called out into the thick darkness, with just a hint of a wobble in his young voice.

"Yeah?"

"I hope Mistress Mother makes her way safely back as well."

"...Mother. Yeah."

That night he dreamt of the Sultana, lying limp on the floor.

-=-=-

Alacran's new party of three crossed the bridge to Ishgard in a sodding snowstorm- a terrible omen by Alacran's reckoning. The cold in the grey-stone city was unpleasant, and immensely hard to adjust to for someone with lizard-like blood running in their veins.

For the first week Alacran spent in Ishgard running about on errands, he barely had time to think, let alone process all that had happened.

Alphinaud made a poor white mage replacement, but the boy tried his best.

After two weeks, he found a post moogle, who definitely didn't belong there, but who was he to complain? Sadly, the tiny creature had no letters for him.

From that day on, he checked with the moogle every morning and evening, when his duties at Falcon's Nest and the Forelands didn't keep him overnight.

Alphinaud and Tataru began to ask after her, and he settled into a routine of shaking his head before they could even open their mouths.

After three weeks, the lack of any news bit at his heart every morning and evening, but still he understood. She had to move the children, find a place for them, get them schooling again, and try to get in contact with the free company at large.

Alphinaud redoubled his efforts to practice healing, but the lad’s attempts at scholarly arts were never the same as white magic.

Alacran kept busy with work, quests, and then late at night when sleep eluded him: writing dull accounts and poems by candlelight.

It kept the little voice at bay that liked to whisper _You’ve been left alone yet again. Every time._

“I’ll use these to tell her about everything when she returns.” he promised the cheerless room.

Faith.

  
  


But when weeks became two months, faith became worry. Worry that something had gone wrong. That she had been found and killed on the way to Limsa.

He reasoned that she too was a warrior of light, that Hydaelyn would protect her.

Surely.

He started to pop by Limsa when he could spare a moment and the gil, tight as it was.

Nobody on the streets had seen her.

He kept faith.

Until it was _three months._ Three months with no word. He checked the moogle mail every day, before leaving on patrol and after returning.

No luck, no letters.

It felt like a stone had taken up residence in his heart.

Alphinaud did his level best to cheer him up, poor lad, but the loss of his precious army had left him licking wounds as well. The loneliness of missing companions ate away at both of them with knife and fork.

Aymeric sent him notebooks when Alacran's dour mood rendered the elezen around him tetchy and quiet when he entered the room.

The smell of good quality paper cheered him a little, enough that his miserable poems and stories changed to half hearted diary entries, punctuated by the empty silence in his mind.

And still the moogle had empty paws.

Late at night, while tossing and turning on his fine bed in Fortemps Manor, he dreamt of hunting, but instead of finding the fallen stag when he crested the hill in pursuit of the blood trail, he found _her_ with arrows driven through her spine.

He always woke in a cold sweat thereafter, muscles clenched in pre-emptive flight.

  
  


“We’re so sodding alone in this city” Tataru griped one morning, handing over a single paper’s worth of intel gathered by her time spent nursing a mug of ale in the back corner of the Forgotten Knight.

“I know.” was all he could muster.

He was.


	4. Free Company: Fish Knives & Cat Piss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two of oneshot five.  
> questionable medical procedures and pilgrim baby food contained therein!

Ishgard may have been made welcoming by the Fortemps, but outside of their lovely manor, it was always sodding  _ freezing _ in a way that crawled its way into Alacran’s skin and took up shop.

The xaela had never missed Thanalan's sun-baked days  _ so much. _

So once his duties with the two Fortemps brats were completed for the moment, he found himself standing by the aetheryte plaza, debating if he should really, really be using his gil to teleport to Costa Del Sol to soak in the sun, just for a bell or two.

An icy blast soared in at that very moment, bringing an icicle smashing down onto the ground in front of him.

_ Worth it. _

He had to shield his eyes to the glare of the La Noscean sun as he stepped out of the shadow of the Costa Del Sol aetheryte onto the beautiful, sandy beach...which was overrun with hundreds of people? 

Girls and boys in scanty swim wear sauntered by him, laughing and eating fish and chips. Music was playing in the distance, and he was no music expert, but anyone could tell the spirited, light tune screamed  _ festival. _

_ Huh, so Costa Del Sol does summer festivals. _

The thought was oddly cheering, reminding him of childhood, of traveling performers arriving in Reunion and peddlers setting up stalls of fried food-a luxury in a place where oil was scarce.

He ducked behind the counter of an abandoned stall and stripped off his armor blissfully.

“Nobody will know if I just leave it here...right?” he asked himself, before deciding that nope, and if they minded it, he’d just fight them.

Greatly freed in body and just a bit in heart, he took a long, running leap off the end of the nearest pier, and happily paddled around for a good half bell before sprawling on the sand like a limpid sea monster.

A group of pretty girls charged past his supine form, giggling up a storm. None of their giggles were low enough.

He considered getting fish and chips just like everyone else strolling by that smelled of grease, but the siren call of the sun was too strong to ignore, and so he took a nap.

The xaela awoke just as the sun began to set on the horizon, the ocean waters glittering orange-pink beneath its rays.

He stirred up groggily, smiling at all the paper lanterns and bonfires now littering the sea-side.

His stomach rumbled. Mayhap it was time to finally get that fish and chips. He returned to his armor dump to find a pair of britches- his bandages were too wet yet to put on a shirt. After considering, he buckled on his sword as well. Just in case.

Habits die hard.

The general crowd of beach-lovers seemed to be drifting towards a cluster of food-stands and temporary bars, and he followed suit, stomach rumbling at the smell of fried food wafting on the air.

A hyur and black-haired lalafell cut in front of him, bearing massive bags of ice. The taller of the festively attired pair was wildly telling some ridiculous story about goblins that barely floated back to him, and waving about with her free arm.

_ Ooo, is there shaved ice here??  _

He tried to pull closer to the pair to ask, only to stop dead in his tracks when the lalafell burst out into that  _ unmistakably low chuckle. _

His heart stopped, and then restarted, blooming hot in his chest.

_ All this time, and I accidentally find you at a FESTIVAL? _

Alacran was running before he knew it.

“YOU. YOUUUUUU” he yelled, charging towards the little _traitorous_ lalafell , fist clenched tight around his sword.

The pair spun around on the sand, nearly dropping their burden of ice.

He stared Tiel down. It was undoubtedly her- the blonde hair was gone, and the red spectacles had been replaced with thin silver ones-but they could never conceal those  _ blank grey eyes. _

He skidded to a stop right in front of her and glared down.

Her face drained of blood, black pigtails spilling over her shoulders as she craned her head back to peer up at his wrathful face.

“Hi there… Alacran…”

“IT HAS BEEN  _ MOONS. _ ”

“So it has..” she murmured sheepishly, shifting the sack of ice in her arms.

The hyur finally recovered from her open mouthed shock, and pulled in front of his  _ delinquent  _ friend, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Hey, don't yell at Mom like that!" 

He took stock of her-short, curvy, light muscle except for the arms which were oddly defined, red hair. Strong, maybe a warrior?

Then she pulled a  _ massive  _ sword out of nowhere.

The arms made a lot more sense now.

"What is that" he asked flatly, offended by the sheer, ridiculous size of the thing. For Althyk’s sake, it was as tall as she was! Could she even swing it?

"A...sword?"

"It's an  _ affront. _ "

"Cranky cause you're a paladin, aren't you." She shot back with a flip of her red hair, and hoisted the sword with ease, sliding into position.

_ Impressive. _

_ But stupid. _

“I’m more cranky because I haven’t seen your mother here in  _ months” _ he shot back, too far gone to care about the nasty little truth coming to light. 

It wasn’t even that she didn’t write any more, it was simply the lack of her _ being at his side _ .

He drew his sword and prepared his stance.

The local bystanders all stopped and turned at the sight.

Tiel’s face squished up like a dried prune, and he dully wondered what that constipated expression meant. Disgust? Wanting to escape?

_ Just why. I just want to know why. _

Rolanberry leaned forward, ready to leap-

And then Tiel’s face collapsed. His heart clenched.

_ Don’t- _

The cheerful festival music seemed like a distant mockery.

Slowly, Tiel began to speak.

“Stop. Both of you. Rolan, finish up and go home.”

“But it’s not safe to leave you with an angry man!” 

_ Ok, fair point, I wouldn’t either. _

“I’ll be...not angry?” he offered gingerly, sheathing his sword.

“Riiiiiight” the hyur spat out, but she lowered her “sword” slowly.

“ _ Please, Rolan. _ ” Tiel begged sweetly, tugging on the woman's yukata hem.

“Fiiiiine.” Rolanberry sighed, putting away the hunk of metal with a roll of her shoulders.

“But if you hurt a hair on her head, I  _ will find you. _ ” she uttered with a certainty that would make a lesser man’s skin crawl.

“Understood” Alacran sighed in return.

Rolanberry took Tiel’s ice and left them for the stalls, with an ominous backwards glance.

He tried to smile peaceably at her, but it probably came off slightly maniacal. 

Tiel tapped his knee and thumbed in the direction of a nearby beach bar.

He winced.

“Are you sure it’s wise to have a big, important conversation while blindingly drunk?”

She looked down at the ground.

“If I don’t, I’m not sure I won’t just run away  _ right now _ .”

He let out a breath.

Ok. Communication, even drunken communication was better than nothing.

They situated themselves at the bar, and when Tiel ordered scotch on the rocks, he knew it was about to be a long tale.

He watched in half disgust, half wonder as she tossed half of it back despite her tiny size, and slammed the glass down with determination.

Only to stare into it for the next minute.

He sighed. First move to him. What was light, easy...

“You look wrong in black hair.”

“It was the farthest color from blonde, Nophica take me.” she moaned immediately and kneaded the space between her brows.

“The glasses aren’t great either” he offered, unhelpfully perhaps, but the lack of red frames was  _ irking. _

“I just needed to look different. I told you I would!”

“So you did…”

She had a tiny striped bikini on, after all.

Tiel threw back the second half of the glass without ceremony and begged the bartender for more. 

He tried to think of a question that could encompass everything that was in his heart once. It was so close to  _ bursting _ with questions.

“What have you been  _ doing _ ?”

_ How could it be so important that you left Alphinaud and I to save the world on our own? _

  
  


Tiel stared off into the distance.

"At first? Surviving. Finding a property, finding a school for the little ones. Only they decided they weren't so little anymore. So I've rapidly had to teach them the ins and outs of helping me put together a free company from the ground up…"

She took another determined swallow, steadfastly looking anywhere that wasn't his face.

He waited, patiently now. The setting sun lit her ruddy brown skin with a warm glow.

The white in her swimsuit really set off her complexion.

"And then...once I got it all set up, and started pounding the streets looking for more members than just two little girls, the more people I gathered around me...the more I didn't want to lose them. I never got to pick the people around me like that before. It’s been lovely...”

_ What, was I forced upon you? Was I not chosen? _

She bit on, deep in the throes of now-soused melancholy.

“...and then I couldn't help thinking 'What if I get tracked all the way here? Merylwyb can only do so much, she barely holds Limsa Lominsa together…' And I would be responsible for everyone losing everything! I have to be in charge now-" She raked a tense hand through her bangs, rasping against the skin with her short nails.

"I have to be in charge now…" she murmured, low and quiet.

He leaned in, close enough to smell the scotch and sea salt.

"I have to be in charge and I'm  _ shite  _ at it." She whispered, an onze of exhaustion leaking into her voice. 

She pounded the table feebly with her fist. The scotch glass jumped.

"I never dreamt of it, you know! Of heroics, of Hydaelyn whispering in my ears! I only ever dreamt of a life spent reading, studying medicinal arts, cooking, raising a family. And now it's my fault that the free company is on the run. And I couldn't get it together enough, couldn't face the threat of losing what little I've rebuilt if I go back to saving the world, go back to the public eye-oh Nophica!" 

She clutched the glass tightly.

"I could even die and leave the  _ children _ behind, that might be the worst outcome of all…"

She took a mouthful more scotch and looked him in the eye pleadingly.

"I knew you're far more capable than you give yourself credit for…" 

He stared down at his hands, callused and bandaged from the day of butchery he'd had, clearing out beasts.

_ Capable. _

Aye, one way to put it. Except his side was still lacerated from a terrible blow two days ago; Alphinaud's handiwork not advanced enough to mend every bit of nerve and flesh. Except his mind was exhausted from having to watch his front and his back. 

He was done with not prodding, not demanding.

“Not so capable that I’m invincible.” he murmured, fingering the bandages that covered his still-healing wounds meaningfully. They were drying quickly now, crystals of sea-salt sticking to them. It stung, vaguely, but he was good at ignoring pain.

She turned her luminous, brimming eyes to him, raking up and down Alphinaud’s rough bandaging job.

Softly, she reached out to touch a loose bandage-end.

"Alphinaud isn't you." He gently reminded her.

She smirked despite herself.

"Certainly not. But they're done with love, at least. You shouldn't have swam in them though, now they'll have to be replaced."

A moment passed, heavy-laden with unspoken words.

Then she sighed.

"Alright. Get them off."

"Here?" He asked incredulously, casting a gaze at the barkeep-who just shrugged back at him, clearly already soused himself.

"Unless you fancy coming back to my place and have Rolanberry glare at you the whole time." Tiel offered smugly.

He thought of the hyur's glare and stupid sword.

"Fair enough"

Evening moved in with a burst of fireworks blossoming on the horizon as Alacran unwound the bandage that encircled his torso.

Tiel sighed to see the deep, curving lacerations that had bit into the side of his ribs, leaving the purple flesh mottled dark violet and oozing clear fluid and blood.

"Alphinaud really has a lot to learn…" she muttered, reaching out and fingering a droplet of fluid, then raising her fingers to her nose.

He watched in fascination as a flicker of disgust raked across her face.

"Barkeep, a bottle of vodka please"

"Shhheertainly" the man slurred, spinning around to fetch it.

Deftly, she pulled out a cooking knife out of a hidden pocket, along with a wadded-up bolt of linen.

"How do you  _ do  _ that?" He wondered, considering her bikini curiously.

She smiled brightly.

"The charm of being an expert weaver is you learn  _ secrets. _ Now lean against the bar with your good side."

She uncorked the vodka, and poured it over the knife. He gulped. 

She raised one dark eyebrow. 

"Does the noble paladin fear kitchen knives more than the swords he fends off daily?"

"He fears truant, mischievous hands near his exposed torso, being accustomed to having a layer of armor betwixt himself and them." Alacran drawled back, settling uncomfortably against the edge of the bar.

Her eyebrows shot up. 

"My, you certainly had at least one book club meeting with Urianger."

He opened his mouth to protest, because he did recieve a motley childhood education thankyouverymuch-but she cut him off with a sudden wad of linen in his mouth.

"Bite" she commanded seriously, and then the knife was sliding into the barely-knit wound, slicing it backopenAlthyktakehim.

_ She hates me she hates me oh Althyk don't let me die at a bar to a fish knife in the ribs. _

It was mercifully quick, and soon the knife was clattering to the countertop, followed by a several slivers of pussy flesh. 

The world was swimming...no, his eyes were watering, he realized.

Tiel's face loomed very near, all round and deadly serious.

She grabbed hold of his scaly cheeks.

"Breathe with me. One. Two. Three."

He tried, he tried while his vision sloshed, sloshed like the soupy sea water in that sea grot… 

Finally, the hands disappeared, and only the voice and the blackened sky blooming scarlet and gold remained.

"Bite."

His side flared into fire, fire and liquid and why wasn't the liquid  _ cooling the fire _ .

"Esuna"

Something vanished then, some vague pressure that had been cooking inside him…

His head crashed against the bar, horns first.

  
  


"Shite."

  
  


Tiel quickly raised a hand to the xaela's neck.

A pulse still beat there, low and slow like usual.

She heaved a sigh of relief, and then returned to the steady bleed of the re-opened wound.

"You had better bless your lucky stars you found me, scoundrel" she clucked, hefting her staff above the gash. With one alcohol-soaked hand, she arranged the flaps of skin straight, smoothing out the edges carefully.

Once everything was aligned, she refreshed the silent regen she'd cast, and then began delicately curing each re-opened muscle, guiding the rejoining with as much accuracy as she could. 

A drop of sweat rolled down her petite nose, but she resisted the urge to wipe it, turning her head at the last second to let it drop to the ground. 

Lastly, she coaxed the flaps of skin to grow back what little she'd sliced off, and finally knit together-this time into a soft edged, pink scar. She doused the scar with the last of the vodka, and then took the rest of the linen, ripped it into bandages and gave the man a  _ proper  _ bandaging.

Not that he needed it any more, but it was always nice to have a surprise when you woke up in the morning.

  
  


The moon hung high above the ocean by the time she'd finished, and the barkeep was snoring in the absence of customers. 

She felt momentarily bad for probably driving off foot traffic by the sight of butchery, but the man looked happy enough in his drunken dreams, so surely it was fine?

She helped herself to a mug of ale to restore the liquid she'd lost doing wound care with a fish knife, and considered the paladin's sleeping form.

"I could just leave like a coward…" she mused aloud to her Fat Cat, who'd somehow finally found her all the way in Costa Del Sol despite her firmly telling him to  _ stay home, I need to make icy treats for the festival, and cat hair tastes horrible in shaved ice!  _

Fat Cat meowed, and pissed on her sandal.

"I will punt you" she threatened, but emptied the rest of the beer on him instead, and strode over to her  _ old companion.  _

He wouldn’t wake, no matter how much she shook him.

Tiel plopped herself down on the splintery stool next to him, and gravely considered the xaela’s sleeping face.

It was bruised along the jawline, wherever the scales couldn’t protect it, and his brows were knit together even in rest. 

She cast her gaze to the heavens in begrudging supplication to the whims of Hydaelyn, but when the mother crystal failed to wake the man for her with any of her echoey magic, the lalafell sighed and tapped her link pearl.

“Rolan? Yes, I’m fine. But he’s not. NO I DID NOT KILL HIM- I need you to come back and bring your massive moogle-bench. Tell Vi-deo to clear off a couch and get some blankets ready.”

Rolan arrived quickly, her massive moogle drawing little comment under the shelter of night.

“Help me heave him on” Tiel instructed, grabbing the man unceremoniously by his scaly feet.

“We’re really taking this guy home with us?” Rolan sighed, grabbing Alacran under the armpits.

“Aye. On the way back, I guess I’ll have a lot to tell you…” Tiel muttered, hoisting the feet up on to the bench, and then gingerly picking up Alacran’s tail and curling it into a little tail-pile on his lap.

Rolan stifled a snort at the sight, and patted Tiel on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I always suspected you were holding out on us.”

Tiel winced, and looked up apologetically.

“Am I really that transparent?”

“Only sometimes!” Rolan laughed, and tapped the giant floating moogle. 

“Let’s go, Moogy!”

-=-=-

Alacran came-to slowly, the world swimming in front of his eyes whenever he could force them open a crack, the scent of the sea air filling his nostrils.

_ Did she leave me at the bar? _

The sound of windchimes trickled into his consciousness, and the awareness of laying on his back on something soft, not splintery sent his mind flying to the possibilities.

_ The Mizzenmast? _

He struggled yet again to open his eyes, and this time managed to keep them open long enough to focus.

An unfamiliar room met his eyes, filled with ceruleum-blue couches, vivid green potted palms and whose walls were lined with endless book shelves.

_ So many books. _

Definitely not the Mizzenmast then- he doubted many of its patrons could even read.

A soft, girlish gasp near his feet startled him, and he struggled to hoist his head up enough to see who it was.

A smiling, young miqo'te met his gaze, her hair cut in a sleek black bob that swung around her round little face.

“Hi!” she greeted him, raising a small hand in greeting.

He thought back foggily to that dark night months ago.

“You’re...one of those kids.”

“Yup! I’m Dahlia, like the flower! Mom said to let her know when you’re up!”

His heart leapt as the child scrambled to her feet and dashed out of the room.

She hadn’t left him to his own devices on that beach.

Each moment felt like an eternity as he waited, suddenly aware of the chronometer ticking away in the far corner of the room.

Tick.

_ What will she say? _

Tock.

_ What will I say? _

Tick.

His anger had bled away on that beach, but the yearning to have her back with him, to rejoin with the few Scions that remained still held strong.

Tock.

The door creaked open, and he whipped his head around.

There she stood, in all her knee-high glory, holding a bowl of soup. A slight smile graced her lips.

"Good morning, sleepy head. You've been out like a lantern for a day and a half!"

He struggled to hike himself more upright on the sofa, wincing as his head spun.

"Alphinaud and Tataru will be wondering where I am!" He gasped out, only for Tiel to raise an assuring hand as she drew near.

"I've already sent them  _ several  _ letters-now lean back, just relax. Let me prop you up with some pillows, and then I'm going to feed you some broth."

He fell back with a groan, and allowed her to deftly tuck several lovely,  _ soft  _ pillows behind him. 

However, when she went for the spoon, he weakly glared at her.

"I can do it myself" 

"You won't" she asserted, raising the spoon to his lips.

He held her gaze for a few seconds before slumping.

"Fine."

It was humiliating, but she was right. He could barely clench a fist.

"It's because you haven't been eating enough, and you've just gone two days without  _ anything at all _ " Tiel remarked gently, spooning the herby broth between his lips.

"Whose fault is that.." he muttered.

She smirked.

"Yours. And mine, I suppose by extension. There was much more wrong with you, however."

He obediently accepted the next spoonful and let the soup seep down his throat, soothing the dry patches. Tiel continued on, something grim in the set of her round jaw.

"Alphinaud may be trying his best, but the lad clearly has never studied Au ra anatomy, nor is he experienced enough to run a full diagnostic on you. He mis-aligned the skin and muscle in your wound, and completely missed the fact that you had a very mild case of magical poisoning."

"Poisoning?? I never felt my health sapping out" he exclaimed, wide eyed.

Tiel pensively stirred the steaming broth.

"Aye, it was very mild and can normally be fought off with a healthy constitution...but Tataru informs me you've been neglecting meals and sleeping very little-"

She shot a pointed glare his way and followed it with another spoonful.

"-so your constitution was, of course, compromised. No wonder you collapsed on me when you did-running on dregs ill suits you."

Alacran cleared his throat.

"About that. Thanks, first of all. I feared waking up on the sand."

She smiled weakly.

"My conscience overwhelmed me, finally. More's the pity for you it didn't awake sooner."

He felt his eyelids growing heavy again, and before he could run out of time, hurriedly pressed on.

"Were you ever planning on coming back?"

She froze, broth sliding off the spoon mid-air.

"I… I planned to send money Tataru's way, as a sort of long distance support, soon as I could afford it. But…"

She looked away.

"... I'd planned on waiting to visit until you found yourself a better companion than I."

Alacran swallowed heavily.

"That would have taken an eternity. None better."

He meant it.

She gave him a twisted, half-smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight.

"So it would seem. Alphinaud has sent several complimentary, plaintive missives today alone."

His eyelids betrayed him then, slipping shut in sudden exhaustion.

Tiel clucked her little tongue, and set the bowl aside.

"Rest a while, and when you wake, maybe we'll try some pap."

_ What on Hydaelyn is pap? _

He wondered, as sleep claimed him.

  
  


Pap was flour-porridge, he found out two hours later, much to his dismay.

His miniature nurse washed the foul concoction down his throat with water, and assured him that House Fortemps was aware he was on "medical leave".

Life began to be measured in nap times and short awake-times. Gradually, he collected information as various free company members floated in and out of his unofficial room, curing their curiosity.

The house was in The Mists, he learned from a timid, one eyed miqo'te, who ventured to touch his tail in childish curiosity.

"Scaly…" she murmured, before snatching her hand back as he mischievously thrashed it out in her direction.

Tiel was not impressed with the storm of tears his troublemaking had elicited from the child.

"Really, was that necessary?" She demanded, hands on hips.

"Incredibly." He gravely informed her, only to receive a flick to the forehead. 

It had the effect of making him fall asleep almost immediately afterwards.

_ Maybe she's the living embodiment of chamomile tea. _

Rolanberry appeared at intervals, whenever Tiel had to be away.

"She's settling affairs." The hyur explained, handing him a spoon for his broth.

"Affairs?" He asked around a mouthful.

"Well, she and I run this free company, see?"

He blinked.

"Ah, no wonder you were so protective."

Rolan rolled her eyes.

"I'm a knight now anyway, so I'm just practicing what goes with the territory. Gotta protect the people, defend my ideals, all that!"

_ My job.  _

He ate his soup in silence as Rolanberry let loose.

"-so anyway, she told me that she used to be a warrior of light, and I was beyond shocked-I mean, she's so  _ short _ ! I always thought heroes were tall folk, but variety is the spice of life, I guess. Anyway, I said hey, let me take care of more things, so you can get ready, and so she's gone to Limsa to rearrange the free company ranks, make it easier for folks to take care of themselves…"

"Ready for what?" He asked, brain lagging behind the rapid fire of words.

She stared at him consideringly, and then took his empty bowl from him.

"If you don't know, I won't tell you."

"What kind of logic-"

"Oh, go to sleep!!"

He obliged for a time-and then Vi-deo made a surprise appearance, even bringing him a cup of tea.

She sat down by his bed while he drank and vacantly stared out the window at the practice dummies.

He was never quite sure what to say whenever she made her silent appearances, so he settled for fingering the teacup edgily and flexing each leg muscle as a test run.

"Want me to do some target practice outside the window for you?" The lady suddenly offered.

"Sure!" 

Anything was better than staring at the ceiling.

He propped himself up this time, and peered out the window. Beyond the garden fence, little sea cottages spread out, sloping down towards the sea. It was incredibly peaceful, more so than even the warm desert wind and swaying cacti of The Goblet.

_ I could get used to this. _

“You know, there’s only three things I love in life.” called Vi-deo through the window as she pulled an arrow out of her quiver.

“Oh yeah?” he called back.

“Going fast, killing stuff, and dees.”

“Dees?” he queried back, with a wrinkle of his brow.

“Dees nuts.” she smirked.

“...I hate you.” Alacran groaned automatically.

“Noted.” Vi-deo giggled, and cocked the arrow.

It hit dead center.

She mumbled something under her breath which sounded suspiciously like "I'm so sodding good at archery."

The short xaela was still an incredible shot, just as he remembered, but it would seem her apparent taciturn nature was simply her zoning out. With repeated exposure, she became a Crude Jokes Extraordinaire.

He was kind of into it.

  
  


After four, or perhaps five days of rest- it blurred all together in the end, he woke after a full, dreamless night of sleep and felt, simply,  _ himself. _

_ Properly, for the first time in ages. _

He got up and touched his toes, rolled his spine, and stretched his arms, marveling at the fact that his side had ceased to burn when he moved. Gently, he stroked over the bandages that covered his side. Nothing stung or felt sore to the touch. 

A chuckle sounded from the doorway, and he spun nimbly to see his tiny nurse standing there with two mugs of steaming-he sniffed-, yes, triple cream coffee.

“All better?” she asked lightly, proffering the precious mug his way.

“Feels like it!” he couldn’t help grinning, accepting the coffee with pleasure.

They drank their coffee in silence as the house came to life around them in the way that had become second nature to him by now- the tinkle of the wind chimes as Dahlia dashed out to do her morning mail deliveries followed by the vague crashing of Vi-deo stumbling around the kitchen half-asleep making tea. 

A breath of a pause for the birds to start their morning-song as the sun rose above the shimmering sea, and then Rolanberry’s yelp of “SHITE SHITE I’M LATE FOR THE LEVEMETE-WHERE IS THE SODDING BREAD???”

“Every morning” Tiel sighed, rolling her eyes.

He threw back his head and laughed freely.

A tiny knock came at the library door.

“Mooom? Can you make me eggies???” called in Lisa, rubbing her good eye sleepily.

“Yes, honey.” Tiel smiled, and turned to her recovered invalid. 

“Ready to upgrade to ‘eggies’?”

“If I never see another bowl of broth again, it will be too soon” he solemnly proclaimed, following her to the kitchen.

  
  


After depositing an entire plate of fried ‘eggies’ into his stomach while Lisa carefully ate just two before running away to “sharpen my arrows!”- _ a terrifying prospect for a child _ he thought privately- Alacran sat open-legged on a kitchen chair as Tiel began to unwind the bandages around his torso.

"I've decided to be mad at you, you know" he began conversationally.

Her fingers stilled momentarily, and her shoulders jerked, before she returned to her careful unbandaging.

He went on carefully. He’d had a lot of time to think about what to say while prone on that sofa.

"I realize that in one way, it's unfair for me to feel that way because you had circumstances, but on the other hand, not even writing a letter is a  _ jerk move.  _ So don't feel guilty for your actions while feeling like you haven't made up for them-"

He cleared his throat.

"Because while you have already, and I forgive you, you can really clinch my forgiveness...by letting me join your free company again. Properly."

She looked up quizzically.

"Is this some sort of roundabout blackmail scheme? If I accept, will I wake up to find you dangling me over a tub of octopi, demanding I rejoin the Scions?"

"No! I just-"

She cut him off softly.

"-Because I've already made arrangements to return. I knew in the back of my mind I was doomed the moment I saw that terrible bandaging job. It's why I didn't want to see you in the first place."

His heart swelled, and he swallowed thickly.

"I wanted to join regardless of that. This week may have started terribly, but it's also been the best week I've had...in months. I like it here."

Her eyes went misty.

"I chose people well, did I?"

"Very well."

She stood there between his legs on her tiny step stool, and fiddled with the uncoiled bandages.

"Well, how can I say no to that? Welcome! Oh, maybe we should throw a party…"

He lifted her bowed head up with a finger under the chin.

"One more thing before that- and this I was planning to do regardless of you returning, but it's  _ especially  _ important since you are."

He slid off the chair, and knelt on the floor in front of her.

"I once promised in the Quicksand that no slave trader would ever get their hands on you. I want to extend that protection to anyone in this free company who gets into danger as a result of what you and I do. I know you don't want to leave them behind either, and so I  _ swear  _ to you that I will do my utmost out there to get you home safe each time." 

Her eyes were definitely watering now, so he hurried on before any tears could overwhelm her.

"And if you somehow pass away and I remain on Hydaelyn, I'll... do my best to take care of the kids for you. No promises that I won’t make Lisa cry though."

Oh she was definitely crying now.

He stared awkwardly at her. This was really out of his roundhouse now.

_ Head pat _ . Yes, of course, just like before.

Gingerly, he extended a scaly hand to her round head, and began patting. The rougher edges of his scales caught in her wavy black hair and ruffled it into a cloud of ebony strands. 

It was impossibly soft.

Slowly she came to a stop, wiping away the glistening tear trails with the backs of her hands.

"St...stoop" she moaned.

"It's embarrassinggg"

"I think you deserve at least this much embarrassment" he informed her, lifting off when she raised a hand to shove him away.

She snorted, and then slapped her cheeks, staining them pink.

"Right! I guess we'd best tell everyone that we have a new member! And then I'll make...pie, how about that?"

"Perfect." He grinned.

"Oh! Also, since I took you away from the beach in nothing but your britches, here's a shirt I whipped up this morning." She pulled it out of seemingly nowhere and he received them with a grateful chuckle.

"Yet again blessed by the master crafter."

He pulled over his head and followed his new  _ leader  _ as she padded out of the kitchen, a spring in her step.

"Atteeention!" Tiel called into the library, clapping her hands.

Alacran hovered behind her in the doorway, not quite sure what to do.

Rolan and Vi-deo looked up from their apparently tense game of Triple Triad, if the flurry of bent cards scattered around the room was anything to go by.

"Alacran here has decided to join us, even though I'll be rejoining him on the battlefield, so really there's no escape from his presence now."

The ladies exchanged a look, and then laughed.

"Guess I win the bet!" Rolan sang out.

Vi-deo sighed, and handed over a handful of gil to the hyur.

Tiel sighed, massaging her forehead.

"Must we bet on  _ everything _ ?"

"Yes!" The girls chorused.

Just then, the front door swung open, and a lithe, black haired raen burst in, covered in blood and holding a  _ very large spear _ .

Alacran backed up and reached for his sword.

The raen grinned at them maniacally before dropping the spear with a thunderous clatter. 

"Yoooo it's your girl, Akimi! I just broke out of jail!!" 

Tiel and Rolanberry shot out of the library.

"WHAT??!" they chorused.

Akimi began to strip off her blood-stained armor  _ on the spot  _ and Alacran was so not ready for this.

"Yeah, yeah I was in like, Gridania and talking to this elezen chick with hyUuuuge bazongas, I mean MASSIVE and then like this guy comes up and he's all snooty and is like 'nice spear but mine makes her scream all night long if you know what I mean' and I was like 'nice story how about you and me cross spears to test your mettle-'"

She hadn't taken a breath yet, and her gauntlets and breastplate were already on the floor. Alacran found himself strangely impressed.

"-yeah so anyway a couple guards ended up mediating a spear fight and that was fine because we did it all official outside the sanctuary bounds but I may have accidentally… called him a few…. Things you don't say in Gridania and so they threw me into the clink. For four days. Until I got bored and busted out."

Both Tiel and Rolanberry looked significantly unimpressed, and Akimi was now down to a shirt and her smalls. Alacran fervently hoped she wouldn't go further.

Sensing she had a tough audience, Akimi raised her hands defensively.

"Don't worry though!! I'll call up what's his face, Jandeline, and make him make me over to look old and not hot so that whenever I'm in town the guards won't notice me!... who's this guy???"

Finally.

Tiel gestured to him 

"This is Alacran, newest member of the free company"

Akimi looked sufficiently awed.

"And here I thought you only adopted girls."

Somewhere to his left, Vi-deo was choking back laughter.

Rolan sighed, and grabbed the bloody raen by the arm.

"Now that we have a male member, it might be a good idea to wear  _ pants  _ underneath your armor. Let's go."

"Fiiiine, it kind of chafes anyway" Akimi whined, and let herself be dragged in the direction of the private chambers.

Vi-deo scooted over closer to Alacran and eyed him up smugly.

“So you joined again, despite everything, just because she asked, huh.”

“Uh, yeah I guess?”

She paused a moment and then smirked and leaned forward.

“She had to  _ bribe _ me to join, you know. I can just recall the day she walked up outside my former free company house and said in broad daylight that if I joined her free company, she’d give me her  _ juicy balls _ ”

“Ex...excuse me????” stuttered Alacran, wondering if he’d heard right.

“I’m not very well-learned on lalafell anatomy but I  _ think  _ she’s female”

Vi-deo leaned back and laughed heartily.

“Cockatrice meat balls.”

“Ohh” he sighed, feeling strangely relieved. 

Vi-deo smirked. “I was trying to think about how to add the cock part of cockatrice to the balls joke but I just couldn’t make it work.”

_ That was your main concern? _

"So you joined her just because of meatballs?" He asked as politely as one could ask a lady who just joked about his friend having balls.

Vi-deo gave him a blank stare.

"That, and she just looked  _ forlorn,  _ begging for my signature on the free company form with two miqo'te children hanging onto her apron strings."

"Fair."

He felt a pang of second doubts. 

_ Did I do my best? _

“I’m gonna...go.”

“You do that.” she smiled vacantly and returned to her tea.

  
  


He found Tiel in the kitchen, rolling out pie dough and humming a tavern tune that he was sure involved pies of a  _ different nature. _

Silently, he sat down, and not for the first time admired the master-crafter in motion. 

Sometimes she looked up at him and winked, but mostly they just sat in silence as she finished filling each pie with heaping spoonfuls of glistening berries.

She looked fine, without a trace of the strain that he had at times worked hard to read.

Akimi emerged from the direction of the private chambers with a slam of the door. Alacran bemusedly noted her long black hair was now cut short, dyed through with streaks of silver, and pulled back in a short braid.

Thankfully she'd found  _ pants  _ somewhere.

Spotting him staring, she grinned and pointed at her hair.

"I LOOK OLD AS SHITE NOW, JANDELINE WAS CRYING" she called across the room.

"Good...job?" he offered tentatively.

"YEAH BOI! NOW I'M GONNA GO GET THOSE BIG BIRDS IN SEA OF CLOUDS TO MAKE ME A DISGUISE."

He decided that it was pointless to ask why giant birds were the best choice to make a disguise capable of hiding a person from the constabulary. 

“This is your life now.” Tiel smirked at him, easily, familiarly.

The knot of anxiety dissipated.

He smiled fondly across the table at her.

"Honestly, I like this place far better with you in charge-the previous owners kept things too quiet for my liking. You, on the other hand, seem to gather the most interesting people around you."

She raised a dark brow.

"Yourself included?"

"Oh no, I think we've been forced to collect each other." He offered lightly, carefully.

She snorted in return, and opened the oven.

"Then may fate ne'er tear us apart! Turn the hourglass would you? These better come out good, since you're about to eat your weight in them!"

He obliged, and happily watched the sands of time trickle away.

"Fate, indeed."

  
  



	5. Alacran Gets Published

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the sweet reviews thus far ;o;  
> i hope you enjoy this brief installment of... oneshot number two this time!

  
  


"Wow! Alacran, this is really good!"

Tiel brought the paper back down to the desk after having read its contents with terrifying speed, and beamed up at its writer.

Alacran cautiously watched her for a few moments, waiting for the shoe to drop, for her to say "-not!"

No such follow up came.

He leaned back in his chair in relieved disbelief.

"Honest?" He asked cautiously, peering down his nose at his tiny non-critical critic.

She beamed up at him.

"Honest! You wrote about us fighting Ravana so gallantly I can scarcely believe that I'm in it! I mean, most of the time I was just screaming my head off and pretending I knew what was going on, but you made everyone's support for each other come through in the writing, no matter how disastrous our victory was…" She looked away sheepishly.

Alacran stifled a laugh.

"As long as you actually keep up to date on what your white mage instructors have to tell you from now on, I'm sure that it'll be easier to keep us all alive."

She glowered up at him from across her desk.

"It was only a Few Spells!!!"

"A few Very Useful ones!" he shot back, enjoying the sight of such a tiny being beginning to vibrate with rage.

_I'll never get tired of this_.

"Fine! Yes, I shouldn't have gone off to Ishgard and left them all alone so long and gone traipsing around defeating primals without working on new skills!! But you also have a new skill here, and I think you should hone it by seeing what other people have to say about your work!" she demanded suddenly, slamming the desk for emphasis.

Alacran blinked.

"I'm...not interested in going around seeing what every creature under the sun thinks of my little thing?…I didn’t intend it to go out of this room..."

_After all, I wrote it for you._

The lalafell smirked.

"Who says you have to _personally?_ " she purred, clambering atop the desk to boop him on the nose with the paper.

“Thanks to Hildibrand, I’ve met a lovely lady from the Mythril Eye...I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking a look at it!”

Suddenly, he had a sinking feeling in his gut.

  
  
  


Five days later, he was standing in Ruby Avenue, holding a fresh copy of The Mythril Eye with shaking hands.

"I _cannot_ believe they printed my story." he moaned.

Tiel only laughed, and threw a flatbread at his head, which he caught with ease borne of long months spent catching missiles of rage.

"Mmmf, 's good writinff" she forced out through a dry mouthful of bread.

He winced at her table manners (only due to being thoroughly drilled on them last week) before taking a more genteel bite in quiet censure.

She went on blithely.

"No, really, everyone loves stories of heroes, and since you wrote it so relatable, it makes them think 'that could be me and my friends'!...why are you eating like some socialite??"

Alacran straightened and used the full effect of their intense height difference to smile luxuriantly down upon her.

"Because all paladins who may end up guarding the Sultana at social events must learn _proper etiquette"_

She glared back with the full force of her massive cauled eyes. 

"I assure you, I know _proper etiquette_ and it really doesn't apply to snacking in Ruby Lane, so lick those crumbs off your scales and let's go scam a free drink off of Momodi in celebration of you being published!!!"

Alacran tried to maintain the lofty look for a few seconds more, but her merrily twinkling eyes did him in.

"Fine!" he heaved.

"Although, for such a holy being, so in tune with the elements…. You sure are a filthy scammer."

His kneecaps took critical damage one second later.

  
  
  


Momodi didn't give them free drinks, but she'd read the article earlier that morning, and quietly complimented the Au Ra's writing.

Alacran tried not to look smug but it was hard when he felt so _good_ inside no matter how hard he was trying to hide it. Cute little things complimenting you...a fellow could be weak to that.

And writing...it felt like the story had just flowed out of him.

Well. 

He downed the mint lassi that he'd had to pay for (a national tragedy), and stared into the milky dregs that swirled in the bottom.

"Snow drifts…hmmmm.."

Tiel spun around on her stool next to him like a whirligig, sloshing her cider with reckless glee. 

"Youuuu saaaay somethiiiing?" She slurred out between giggles.

Alacran glared. 

"It should be illegal to give you alcohol, let alone in the _morning._ Look at you, already in your cups."

"I'm liiiving liiiiife biiiig guuuuy!!"

"I plan on living life too, but not like you..you… little gremlin."

"OIIIIIIII"

He stood up rapidly, and teleported away to their free company house, just in time to dodge her cider cup flying through the air.

Their yard was blessedly peaceful, save for Vi-deo beating up the striking dummy as usual.

Alacran clanked up behind her.

"Hey Vi-deo."

"What."

"She's in her cups again, at the Quicksand."

Vi-deo paused her flurry of punches to turn a glare at him.

"Why me every time… I sodding hate drunkards."

Alacran grinned innocently. 

"You're the officer, I'm a mere member. I couldn't possibly presume to tell our grand leader what to do." 

"Piss off." she growled, and teleported away with murder on her face.

He couldn't resist humming a jaunty tune as he walked into the house, unbuckling his armor as he headed straight for his chambers.

"The tale of two adventurers plunging through the stormy wastes of the Western Highlands…. Now that has a good ring to it…"

  
  


Two weeks later, he purposefully took a nice long after breakfast nap in the free company house's lounge, waiting for the morning Mythril Eye to be dropped off.

At ten, the infernal wind-chimes that Tiel _insisted_ on putting above the front door rang, and the paper girl dropped it off. 

He closed his eyes, laid back and listened to the waddle of Tiel’s feet approach the door, and the rustle of paper as she unfolded it.

"Let's see, Sultana Having Spicy Summer Affair….Syndicate Increases Taxes...Tales From The Frozen Wastes...by Alacran Cero?!!"

_Got her._

He did his best to stifle a smirk as he heard the waddling rapidly approach. 

Then a calculating hush fell as she paused over his resting form.

He did his best to regulate his breathing into long, steady breaths. In-out, in-out. 

Suddenly a warm weight plopped on his stomach- weight in the form of a lalafellian bottom.

His eyes flew open. 

“What in the name of Rhalgr do you think you’re _doing_ ?! Trying to crush my organs??!!” Alacran snapped, craning his neck up in indignation at his _oh so gentle_ free company leader. She grinned triumphantly back him, brandishing the newspaper at him.

“Getting you back for _this_!!!”

Alacran did his very best not to smirk. 

“Why would you need to ‘get me back’ for simply continuing to do what you _told me to_?”

She screwed up her face at this, looking somewhat poroggo-like.

“I told you to see what others thought of your work, not to go behind my back and keep writing for the Mythril Eye without a word to me!”

He struggled to pull his torso up against the arm of the couch-craning his neck was mighty uncomfortable-and ended up somewhat propped up, far more eye-level with the indignant lalafell. 

_Now, how to milk this._

“I seem to recall that a little _somebody_ told me I should _hone my skills_ by having them professionally analysed?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and he rushed on, words spilling out.

“And of all the creatures I know...It must be said, you are the _least professional._ ”

He couldn’t hold back the smirk now, and pulled himself further upright. She slid down his stomach and landed sideways on his lap, glaring up at him the whole time. Steam was practically whistling out her ears.

“I! I-” she sputtered, only to be silenced quickly by him pressing a finger to her lips.

“Nu-uh, let me finish. It’s my duty as a free company member to listen to the leader, is it not? That’s all I’ve done, _despite_ wanting to keep my talents entirely _private._ As they say at Summerford Farms, you harvest what you plant.”

Suddenly, Tiel looked almost chastised, her blonde eyebrows furrowing in consternation and her tense little form suddenly going jelly-like in his lap. His lap which was slightly too warm.

She quietly looked up, and he could feel the contrition running through her.

“I...did I make you uncomfortable, push you too far? I thought it was a good thing, and I was just excited to have the connections to help... I’m sorry.” She finished breathily, pleadingly peering up at him. 

Not for the first time, his heart turned over in his scaly chest.

“You’re...you’re fine. I wasn’t thrilled about going from sharing with a great friend to being published for all of Ul’Dah to see, but the praise from everyone was really great...and your reporter had good corrections for me to learn from. And the paycheque wasn’t shabby either to be honest-after all, I don’t make money the way you do. We’re good.” 

He smiled down at her and she smiled back with relief.

Alacran reached for the newspaper, which had been discarded around his feet, and straightened out the bent pages. 

“Here, want to read it? ...Promise next time you can read it before anyone else.”

“Hmmm, nah.”

He blinked down at her.

“‘Nah’???”

“Yep, nah! I want _you_ to read it.”

Alacran wrinkled his nose at her as she adjusted her position on his lap to a comfortable recline against his chest.

“What am I, your _retainer_?”

She upturned her face and smirked.

“No, you’re my _naughty_ writer”

A moment passed. He dry gulped.

“Hah! Maybe I’ll write some _naughty novels_ then, would that please your grand leader-ness?”

She flushed. 

“I didn’t mean _that!_ And writing a novel after just two short stories is a bit of a reach! Now read on, you..you fount of ambition!”

He snorted and flipped open the Mythril Eye. 

“Beneath the steel-grey sky, across the icy wastes buffeted by frozen winds, they chased the infidels….”


	6. Interlude: Mother's Day On The Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fresh 'n hot off the press, a slap-dash of healing and occasional outside perspective before we move on to Larger Feelings!

There were now _two_ warriors of light in Ishgard, Aymeric had found out one early morning, via a hastily jotted off missive from Alphinaud.

_"Mother" may not seem very intimidating, as I doubt she can scarce peer over your desk, Ser Aymeric, but I assure you her presence is nonetheless welcome to the remnants of the Scions and to House Fortemps._

The lalafell, then.

He'd heard vague whispers about a short white mage who trailed around doing errands for the Scions, but truth be told, he'd never met her face to face-only her sometimes companion, Ser Cero.

Who was so brusque at times that Aymeric wondered how it was possible that he could even _have_ a companion.

Truly a mystery for the ages.

The Lord Commander had little occasion to meet her, however, as his business kept him desperately busy. 

Until one fateful day, that is.

-=-=-

Alacran was frankly exhausted after running around the hinterlands like a chocobo with its head cut off. As he passed through the gates of Ishgard, he slumped in his stance, finally feeling as though he could relax.

"Just have to report to Aymeric, and then we can go to the manor and have some blessed peace" he wearily reported to his companion.

Tiel blinked up at him.

"Oh? Atheneum Astrologium rang me, saying the stars will be in alignment for my next test."

_Sodding star lovers._

"Could they at least wait an hour?" He begged, thinking of _hot, sweet tea._

She laughed then, a crinkle of understanding lighting around her eyes.

"You don't have to _come with,_ silly lizard! Why don’t you go talk to Aymeric and then toddle off to your bed like an _old man_?"

He resented the implication, but sadly his body was in too much pain from life on the move to protest the offer.

They parted ways with a genial wave.

Once alone, Tiel smiled up at the late afternoon sky, somewhat concealed by the sheets of snow that were drifting down, and rolled her neck with a disturbing amount of cracks.

"Night isn’t quite here… Let’s kill some time! Time to run a kamikaze inspection!" She cheered to nobody in particular.

(The water spirits giggled a little though, sensing mischief)

Casually, Tiel strolled by the massive infirmary in the "downtown" of Ishgard, checking out the guards that lined the double doors.

Bit too straightlaced-looking for her liking, and assuming she could get in, reception was likely going to be difficult.

_Time for old-fashioned misdeeds!_

A very handy pine tree was off to the side of the building, and with some good old sweat and tears, the little lalafell climbed it until she was at the height of the second story windows, before hopping off onto a ledge with...less than perfect grace, landing hard against the diamond paned glass.

"Ooof!" she grunted, righting herself carefully. A quick slip of her small fingers-huzzah for racially enabled espionage-into the sill gap that to a large-fingered race would seem tiny, and she had the window up in a jiffy.

"Elezen security really isn't built with me in mind, hmm?" She asked wryly, before realizing there was no looming scaly presence behind her to affirm.

_Right then, inspection time._

She slipped through the upper wards unnoticed, as the few nurses that were there were mainly occupied with washing the bedridden elezen with mangled limbs who could not wash themselves.

The water was hot, but not _too_ hot she found out by quietly slipping a finger in the basin while a nurse's back was turned. The patient in the bed's eyes widened to see a tiny, vaguely elezen-shaped creature finger their bath water, but before they could open their mouth, she made a "shush" sign that veered between authoritative and chilling.

She continued on, down a floor into a bustling ward that seemed to be reception for the recently-healed/operated upon.

The advantage of her height was the ability to hide behind carts and wash baskets that to an elezen appeared average, but for a lalafell, were towering hideouts.

“Oh glory, now _that’s_ a shite smell that I haven’t smelt in a while” she muttered to herself when her latest hideout proved to be a basket of soiled bed sheets.

_No matter where you go, what race you are, eventually you find people with the same-smelling shite._

The care seemed fairly standard across the board, though the nurses seemed a bit uptight.

_But morning shift nurses are like that._

“Really, healing never changes.” she laughed to herself.

“What in the seven-” a voice burst out from her left.

_Oops. Housekeeper at tenth bell._

Tiel dove under a nearby bed and watched carefully as a pair of awfully large feet plodded up to the laundry basket, and shuffled in a circle, surveying the surroundings.

Carefully, the lalafell wriggled further away from the foot of the bed, until she was wedged against the wall.

“Maybe I’m still drunk…” the foot-owner sighed, and bent to pick up the basket. 

For several terrifying moments, their head swung into view, and they proved to be an aged hyur with silvering-blonde braids.

Tiel froze perfectly in place, waiting with bated breath.

Finally, _finally_ the hyur straightened up with a groan and a shudder.

_Bad back. Perhaps some liniment may help?_

Once the woman left, Tiel carefully scooted out from under the bed, and let watchfulness be her watchword throughout the rest of her inspection.

Overall, the infirmary’s bed-wards seemed to be efficiently run, and middling clean.

_Room for improvement, but nothing to be concerned about...which leaves only the healing-floor._

Carefully, she slipped down a back staircase onto the ground floor, and breathed in the familiar scent of spilled iron, charred skin and lye soap wafting through the air.

_Home away from home._

The staircase had taken her into a supply room, the white mage swiftly realized. Shelves lined the room, potion bottles and jars of dried herbs organized neatly from floor to ceiling.

It smelt of dried forests and gardens, of lemon and honey.

It smelt of her mother’s little dark room of mysterious jars.

_Paradise._

Slowly she worked her way through, taking mental notes.

_I should stock some of these at home._

The room emptied out into another blissfully chirurgeon-free supply room, this one filled with boxes of bandages and splints and in the middle a table held glistening trays of surgical knives.

Tiel eyed them with lurid lust, but restrained herself.

_Your staff and fish knife are enough for now._

Beyond the pleasant paradise of sharp objects, a stone hall stretched out all the way to the front entrance. It was lined with spacious side rooms, each ready to receive patients on their bone-mending tables.

It was harder to dodge the occasional chirurgeon here, but some kind soul had placed potted plants and wall hangings along the hall to soften the look of the place.

_Bless interior decorators._

Tiel stealthily snuck her way along, peering in at the various chirugeons executing their duties.

In one room, a bone-setting was in progress, the unfortunate patient sufficiently sent to dreamland with a gently cast Repose.

Tiel braced for the inevitable distressing sight of an exposed bone returning to its place with a sickening twist.

“Three, two, one” the chirugeons counted down, and then pushed the bone back to the normal orientation, with blood trickling out of the gash more rapidly every moment.

“Double check for any fragments!” the older of the two chirugeons ordered.

“Yes, Ser! None can be seen!”

_Ah, procter days._

“Then what, Oshent?”

“Then we pull the skin back into place, Esuna any malignant effects, cast Regen to stem blood flow, and then Cure the incision!” Oshent rapidly recited, a sheen of sweat on his white face.

“Get on with it, then!” barked his supervisor, pulling back to the head of the cot, and resting two fingers on the patient’s neck.

The poor lad nodded frantically, and began pulling the incision back together.

“Esuna” he whispered, drawing a wand from his pocket.

Tiel wrinkled her brow from her position behind a potted orange tree.

“Next, Regen” the lad continued, this time with more confidence in his voice.

Within moments, the blood began to spurt more rapidly out of the wound. A faint glimmer of magic inside the wound seemed to lend the lad confidence, even as bright red blood began pouring over his hands.

“And Cure.”

Gradually, the bleeding stopped, and the skin knit itself together, bit by bit.

At last Oshent stumbled back, blood smeared all the way up his slender forearms.

“Th...there you go, Ser Phamieu.”

The gruff chirurgeon nodded.

“We’ll talk more about your technique, but for now I’ll take the patient upstairs. We must always keep as many rooms open as possible, so learn to work quickly!”

“Yes, Ser!”

“And clean up everything yourself. The housekeepers are vital around here, and I want you to learn their value before you ever summon them.”

The boy’s face fell.

“Yes, Ser.”

Tiel stifled a snicker as the boy despondently began to place his instruments in the sink for rinsing.

_We’ve all been there._

She got up, ready to move on.

“Esuna” the boy groaned, extending his wand over the sink.

Tiel froze.

" _Excuse me_ ? What are you _doing?_ " she burst out, springing into the room before she could even think.

"...Esuna-ing the instruments?" The boy stammered, staring down at her tiny form in disbelief.

She clicked her tongue.

"What, do you esuna your...your _sausage_ after pissing too? Boil them like a proper chirurgeon, _please._ Or at least douse them in alcohol!”

“I can erase anything that’s on them like this!” Oshent protested, backing up.

Tiel put her hands on her hips, righteous anger running through her. 

“What, were you planning on going through the whole dictionary of diseases? Esuna rids the body of _one_ poison or disease at a time!”

“It can be cast generally!” the boy stammered, clutching his wand in front of him.

“It can be cast generally if you want to scrape the bad effects of the blight off and _nothing more._ Do you plan on leaving trace amounts of poison and disease floating around in people? Waiting for it to eat them away later down the road?”

Oshent shook his head somewhat hysterically, and leveled his wand at her.

“Who _are_ you, anyway?? Why are you here?”

_Keeping loneliness at bay..._ her mind hissed, but she shook it off.

“I’m a white mage with a background in the applications of Esuna, which is how I know that you’re not using it proper-”

“-You are a _rotund child._ ”

Tiel’s mouth gaped open speechlessly.

“Have you never seen a lala-”

Osent tipped his head back.

“GUARDS!”

Tiel clapped a hand to her forehead.

“Oh for Nophica’s sake.”

-=-=-

Aymeric was ill-accustomed to seeing the infirmary guards in any state besides boredom, but they seemed positively flustered as they thrust forward a _very short_ captive in chains after bursting through his front doors in a tizzy.

Aymeric squinted through the candlelight.

"You've captured… a child?"

“Warrior of Light, actually!” the short girl exclaimed.

He took a better look at the captive’s small body.

The lass _was_ a lalafell, precisely the race Ser Cero’s companion was said to be.

And truthfully, it was not likely that there was any other lalafell in the entire city, save for Mistress Tataru. 

Ishgard was always quite homogenous.

He flicked his eyes to the guards.

“Report.”

“Ser! Yes Ser! We were guarding the front doors of the infirmary at eighteenth bell when we heard a chirurgeon call for us from within. Upon entering, we found a student chirurgeon being confronted by this miniscule intruder in an empty healing room. The student had his wand drawn on her, and the intruder was bearing no arms, but had a hostile stance. We bound her in chains without struggle. Upon capture she demanded to be brought here for judgement, instead of the central guard house.”

Aymeric turned to the lalafell.

“Was your intent indeed hostile?”

The woman smiled sweetly.

“If it was, the chirurgeon would be dead. I only meant to correct his deadly misconceptions surrounding the use of Esuna. ”

_Right. Warrior of Light, beacon of destructive power._

"And how did you manage to sneak past the guards?"

She brightened.

"Oh! Well, I used to sneak back into the dorms at school by climbing palm trees in the dead of night! Climbing a pine tree in broad daylight is a piece of cake comparatively. Cracking the window open was also easy, considering the size of my fingers."

She held said fingers up with a wiggle for general effect.

_Very tiny indeed._

“And why did you see fit to break into our infirmary?” Aymeric sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“To ensure your practices were up to snuff! It was never my intention to make contact with anyone-I was planning to write an anonymous list of recommendations later-but then I saw a student cleaning instruments with Esuna. Which is in terrible form.”

She flushed red at the thought of it, and folded her arms defensively.

Aymeric templed his fingers, and put on his most engaging, diplomatic smile.

“In essence, you are telling me you climbed a tree adjacent to the infirmary, jimmied the window, snuck in, inspected the wards of your own volition in no official capacity whatsoever, and only proceeded to get caught when you found someone Esuna-ing the medical instruments.”

Tiel beamed brightly.

“Yes! And I hope you will understand my position- I have done no harm to anyone, only, perhaps to your nerves.”

Aymeric smiled a pinched smile.

“Incredibly perceptive.”

-=-=-

"Thanks for drawing me a bath again, Honoroit" Alacran sighed, as he slid into the gloriously warm water.

"'Tis a pleasure, for at least you thank me every time!" laughed the boy, hooking a towel over the tub edge.

He paused in his tidying to take a long look at the Au Ra under the lamp light.

"That's a lot of scars…"

"Hmm? Well, yeah, I s'pose. Got less these days though..." Alacran mused, running a hand along the flat plane of his stomach, fingering the curved marks that adorned it.

Swords were far too familiar with his insides before Tiel came along.

_I have a lot to be grateful for._

“I’ll leave you to your ablutions then?” Honoroit ventured, edging towards the door sensitively.

“Please and thank you” Alacran smiled, clenching a washcloth over his groin.

_Still not used to bathing in front of others._

The water warmed him from the skin inwards over time, until his guts finally settled and relaxed in the face of heat.

_Never going to get used to this cold…_

The xaela slid underwater, and stared up at the grand vaulted ceiling through the ripples.

_Why must even the bathing room have an arched ceiling? Ishgard makes no sense._

A face floated into his view- Honoroit again, yelling something that didn’t quite make sense to Alacran’s horns amidst the swirl and swish of the tub.

He surfaced with a splash, and the boy gasped out:

"Mother’s been captured by the guard!"

"SHE _WHAT_."

-=-=-

Alacran burst into the Knights Of The Congregation, hair frozen over from the bathwater hitting the icy air outside, and lacking greaves, gloves, or anything besides trousers and a shirt really.

His feet were like ice, having forgone even slippers in his haste.

Aymeric shot to his feet at the thunderous arrival, his hand instinctively on his sword. Lucia had already drawn hers and fell into place in front of him.

"At ease!" Alacran barked, tossing down his own sword, and striding up behind his friend.

"What in the _seventh hell_ are you _doing_?"

She spun, familiar ire-heat lighting her cheeks aglow.

"I was simply encouraging the chirugeons to change their malpracticing ways! I caught them out when I snuck into the wards-"

"You _what?_ What happened to the star-people?" he barked, incredulous.

She froze and struck her skull.

"Oh for Nophica's sake! I _knew_ I was forgetting something!"

_Ah, now I see_ , thought Aymeric as he watched the usually taciturn Au Ra chastise his companion within an ilm of her life.

The man looked positively rabid, broad chest heaving with unrestrained anger. His hair was down instead of being in its usual, kempt braid and it was dripping on the floor as the fresh ice thawed out.

Aymeric watched these proceedings with an intense sense of wonderment.

_They're both mad._

For how could they be anything but? One sneaks into a highly guarded facility only to offer opinions at risk of execution, and the other comes nearly naked in the dead of winter not to plead for their friend, but to ream them out instead?

  
  


_They're both absolutely mad._

  
  


The xaela finished his yelling match and turned to Aymeric.

“I apologize for my companion’s behavior, and hope you will not pass any sentence upon her, since her intentions were, _presumably_ , pure.”

“Presumably?” the lalafell piped up irately.

“ _Absolutely pure,_ then.”

Aymeric wilted into his desk chair and pinched his brow tiredly.

“I am inclined to offer some form of reconciliation despite your antics. For both of you are indeed heroes-Ser Cero’s arrival confirms your identity- but pleasing an irate infirmary is no easy task.”

Mother tapped her head thoughtfully.

“I am well aware of that particular fact. I worked in one for several years, after all. I did not enter in assuming to offer naught but unsolicited opinions, but they were more...hostile than expected.”

She paused a moment, then sheepishly admitted:

“I lost my head there as well. Not the first impression I intended to make on you, Ser Aymeric, nor your infirmary. I do apologize, from the bottom of my heart.”

She dropped an astonishingly flawless curtsy, and smiled up at the elezen.

“May we start over?”

Her eyes shone like tiny grey moons in the candlelight, soft now, and her shoulders drooped in regret.

Aymeric had always had a soft spot for those willing to rectify mistakes.

“Very well.”

-=-=-

“And so, as an apology for the dreadful inconvenience and fright I’ve caused, I will not only be offering three free healing classes to any of you who may wish to learn some healing wisdom from a white mage of Gridania, but I will also being donating copies of my research on poisons to your library, and will volunteer here when my duties permit!”

Tiel bowed her head respectfully in front of the gathering of nurses and chirurgeons and waited.

Their feet were shuffling nervously, and soft whispers hissed within the crowd.

_Heh._

One elezen at last stepped forward, presumably the chief chirurgeon, and cleared his aged throat.

“Ahem… We… did not realize you were _the_ white mage that some of our patients encountered out in field operations. They always spoke very well of your talents, and came to us in a very stable state… Er...that is to say…”

The man feebly scratched his chin. A familiar, younger elezen burst forward in the silence.

“What we mean to say is...welcome aboard. And I’m sorry for not listening to you about the instruments… After you left, I asked my proctor about the applications of Esuna, and it turns out you were right, Mistress Mother.”

“Thank you, Oshent” she laughed.

“I’ll be sure to teach you even more!”

“Yes, Se- Mother!”

-=-=-

“You have a caller” Aymeric’s maid informed him a week later on one particularly bright winter morning.

Aymeric raised an eyebrow.

“On a week-end?”

The maid smiled tightly.

“It appears to be an _adventurer._ A very short one.”

“Send her in.” Aymeric smiled, putting down his paper.

A minute later, a soft knock sounded on his study door.

“Come in!”

Tiel pushed the door open with one small hand. Aymeric watched curiously as she bore a square box carefully in with the other.

“Good morning, Ser Aymeric” she grinned, setting the wooden box on his desk on tip-toe.

Aymeric curiously lifted the lid to reveal a rich chocolate cake, decorated with candied orange peels.

“A sachertorte for your troubles” she offered sweetly.

“How did you guess my favorite?” Aymeric sighed, striding over to the call-bell.

“I have a great many talents” she deflected deftly.

He paused by the wall and looked over his shoulder.

A charming, impervious grin was mounted on her small face, and when she realized he was looking, she offered another flawless curtsy that spoke of more education than simple white magery in a swamp.

“Consider it a reparation for your troubles? I can follow it up with a second, equally chocolatey reparation if you like.”

“I shall require a bit more than that, I think...” Aymeric genially stated, gesturing her towards a seat.

“Oh? Three then? You strike a hard bargain, Lord Commander” she laughed, hopping up on the high chair with aplomb.

Aymeric chuckled.

“No, I ask that you sample it with me and a tray of coffee. I think it not too much to ask, considering?”

“Not too much at all!”  
  
  



	7. Maybe Battle Is Where We Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think this is the third one I wrote? does it even matter any more? i counted how many chapters i have yet to post + wips and it looks like we'll hit nineteen at least so uh please buckle up if you're enjoying yourself so far!
> 
> this one was inspired by the brief period of time where i discovered pvp before they changed it, and had a glorious time with double the healing spells.  
> we used to have TWO ASYLUMS. *fist clench*

The free company house was blessedly quiet and soaked in morning sun. Alacran was ready to take full advantage of the peace and the _glorious sunshine_ streaming in through the front windows. Everyone had either gone out to enjoy a fresh morning swim (benefit of living in The Mists), go do some daily monster cleanup in dungeons, or to trot off to the markets.

Leaving him the serene peace in which to write yet another masterpiece of adventure, drama and romance.

Ahem. Not romance on his part. He had long ago switched from writing newspaper accounts of true events with real people to writing adventure novels with a healthy dollop of romance. The transition had been extremely profitable considering he carried over his readership from the Mythril Eye and had secured a new readership amongst the more city-locked inhabitants of Eorzea. Those who couldn’t leave their market stalls, or worked in the refineries… they all enjoyed a little taste of that free life of an adventurer. 

And so he gave it to them, a new novel every couple months, filled with daring feats and brave professions of love. Sold like hot chocolate in Ishgard.

He might have to quit adventuring altogether at this rate.

Back to the writing though.

“A new hero…” he mused, staring at the dust motes dancing in the sunshine.

Most of his heroes thus far had been paladins, if he was being honest with himself. The gallant feeling they gave off was perfect, and since he knew the ins and outs of the job, it had been a natural selection.

But the publishing industry was cut-throat and his editor was pushing him for a new “heart-throbbing” concept.

He sank into the sofa and considered his options.

“Base it off of someone I know?”

He considered his options.

Akimi: Far too rough and brash to appeal to any ladies except Lominsan ones.

Vi-deo: Her usual quiet nature contrasted interestingly with her sudden outbursts, maybe…?

Rolanberry: Estinien fangirl. That wasn’t even a _type._

Aymeric: He’d be found out in an instant, considering the Lord Commander’s growing group of fans these days. 

_I don’t relish explaining to the man that I used him as fodder for a swashbuckling bodice-ripper._

“I need someone with…. _bite._ ” he moaned and slumped even farther into the woad blue cushions.

The front door swung open, chimes bashing against it. 

_Seriously sod the chimes._

“Alacraaaaan!!!” 

The deep voice of his free company leader shook him from his brainstorming.

“Over here...” he sighed, resigning himself to yet another unproductive morning.

She bounded into view, wearing a strange collection of gear including….he squinted.

“Are those my tanking rings???”

“Yep! I had to borrow them because I was at the Wolves Den!”

"What does a den of wolves have to do with borrowing my rings???" he sputtered disbelievingly, as she pulled them off and dropped them onto his lap before plopping down beside him on the sofa.

"Well you see, the Wolves Den is where adventurers go to fight each other in tournaments and such. It's really fun! But since it's easier to decimate the other team if you get rid of the healer, I needed the extra defense to be safe."

Alacran listened with a growing sense of horror.

"This all sounds like some underground fighting ring with really brutal rules, you realize that-right?"

She laughed heartily at that, her blonde twintails bouncing around her as she did so.

"No, silly. The Maelstrom runs it, and it's all done under the sanction of the grand companies-oh! You could even enter the melee yourself and fight against me for Immortal Flames!"

He froze at that, picturing a dark arena, filled with...blood thirsty roegadyn pirates and savage highlander Ala Mhigans and one single stupid lalafell white mage in the middle. 

"Tiel, there's no way I can kill you, even if it's just play fighting in a ring" he found himself saying before he could even bear to think about...facing off.

She stared blankly up at him.

"Really? I could kill you."

Something old and hollow wrenched open deep in his innards. 

"Is...that so."

"Yeah! I mean, that's your job when you're there, right? And it's fun-the hunt, the victory… oh don't look like that. It doesn't _mean_ anything!" she chided, and patted him on the knee.

"Right."

He stared down at her hand. There was dried blood under her nails.

Shite, there was even blood on the rings, some of it still fresh. 

It smelt like...miqo'te.

His stomach turned.

She went on, oblivious.

"Well, you don't have to fight, but come watch me sometime? Sorry for borrowing your rings, by the way, I got yelled at by another healer to get some vitality accessories, so I had to nick them for a bit. I'll make my own now so I'm ready for tomorrow's match!"

Tiel sprang up, and pulled her goldsmithing stone from her pocket. Her white mage robes vanished in a swirl of sulphur that hinted at the lingering effects of black mage spells, and her regular crafting clothes settled on her in a mist of gold dust.

“Byebye, it’s ring time!” she grinned and waved her tiny hammer in the air.

"Uhuh…"

He returned to his blank page, but found himself slumping over it, idly playing with his ink brush.

_I could kill you._

"I need a walk."

-=-=-

The early afternoon sun was bright and gloriously warm, dappling the white stone avenues down to the sea. 

He stood at the top of the hill and took in a deep, salty breath before frustration suddenly surged in his veins.

The xaela took off running in long, pounding strides downhill.

At some point he'd begun a wordless roar, he realized by the time he hit the water, and his lungs were on fire.

For once he felt weak, and as a wave crashed into his knees, he let it take him down and under.

_Ah, the sky looks different under water_ he thought vaguely, salt pricking his eyes.

He held his breath and let his thoughts drift.

_Strength...huh_

-=-=-

"Perch on the balls of your feet!" barked his mentor, raising his sword. 

Young Alacran raised himself on the balls of his tiny, nine year old feet and raised his fists to protect his face.

“I’m ready, Grandpa.” 

The old, sun beaten hyur grinned.

“Good!” he barked before brutally swinging a wooden sword down towards the small boy’s head.

Alacran felt the air parting above him before he could even see the blade move, and instinctively leapt left and forward, dodging the sword by a hair. The strength of his panicked movement sent him forward too far, however and as he stumbled over his own feet, the old man spun ‘round and slapped him across the back with the flat of the sword. Alacran choked out a pained gasp and hit the ground knees-first.

He bit his lip and tried not to cry at the pain as the old man came alongside him and squatted down.

“Boy. Look at me.”

The xaela looked up at his mentor’s face, cowering back in anticipation of yet another reprimand.

The old ala mhigan's eyes softened, and instead of striking at the child, he patted him on the head.

"Look, boy" he murmured, as gently as a craggy old highlander could.

"I know when you get ready to face a blow from me… you're seeing a f- a shitestain slave trader swingin' at you instead. But it's just me an' I just want you to learn how to strike back instead of runnin' away. Runnin' away is a smart move for a kid, an' you're real good at it, but now you're old enough an' strong enough to defend yourself."

Alacran nodded miserably, because of course _he knew_ , but it's one thing to know something, and quite another to _believe_ it.

"Up an' at 'em, boy" concluded the old man roughly, offering a scarred hand.

The boy accepted the helping hand and ignored the ache in his knees as they resumed their original stances.

They tried and tried the rest of that afternoon, and while the boy's footwork improved, his habitual instinct to _run_ was never quashed.

Eventually they flung themselves down on the cracked Sagolii earth panting.

"We'd best hunt ourselves some dinner before the twilight comes" his grandfather croaked.

Alacran turned his head, grinding a horn against the earth and closed his eyes.

There, myotragus hoofbeats, to the north.

He sat up.

"I'll do it." he proclaimed determinedly, and grabbed the single bow and sling of arrows the pair possessed.

The old man nodded, but followed behind a ways. Eastern Thanalan may be quiet, but it was nevertheless dangerous.

They crept through underbrush and lay flat on their stomachs behind a sandy hillock.

Alacran smirked as a myotragus cantered into view moments later and leisurely began to feed mere yalms away.

“Knew it” he breathed, and strung an arrow on the bow.

_The neck is too muscled to pierce...the beast too powerful to confront head-on without difficulty...so the eye remains…_ whispered his memories, foggily.

The billy raised its head from the underbrush to swallow more smoothly.

_Now._

He sprang up, and aimed in an instant. 

Grandfather cursed under his breath as the arrow tore through the eye cleanly and embedded in the head.

The beast collapsed slowly and Alacran’s heart felt like it was soaring high in the pure blue sky.

The pair made quick work of butchery as night crept in, and soon retreated to Drybone to use the communal fire.

After finishing off a very large dinner indeed, Alacran found himself staring up at the starry sky...until Grandfather loomed over him, blocking the view.

“So tell me, boy, how do you track and kill beasts like a seasoned hunter, without a whit of mercy, but you can’t fight back against a man?”

The boy blinked up at him.

“My father took me hunting ever since I was little. Said it was my duty to keep everyone alive by feeding them. If you can’t provide food, you’re not an adult. Hunt what you need, leave the rest...”

“Hmm.. What else did your father do?”

Alacran stared into the flames.

“Make fires, tell great hero-stories...bring home bird feathers for my mother’s hair and arrows…”

“Did he ever defend your tribe? Against outsiders or raging beasts?”

Alacran blinked.

“No. My..my mother did though! Made reaaally poisonous arrows!” He warmed to the topic, and leapt up.

“They were thiiis long, and you can never, ever touch them or you die like a _mongrel_ \- that’s the worst thing to die as I think-”

“Why’s that?”

“A mongrel is lonely, starving, ugly. A wolf cut off from the pa-”

“Like you?”

“I’m not starving!”

“True enough. But when you run out of places to go, like a mongrel running from a predator, what do you need to do to survive?”

There it was, the question that burned him inside like his heart had gone to flame.

The boy clenched his fists.

“Fighting back...doesn’t...isn’t…”

Old memories bubbled darkly in his mind, and underneath, deeper still, something dark crawled away, his mind just barely catching a glimpse.

The old man leaned in quietly.

Alacran stared at his sand-caked feet.

“She got hurt… when she tried it, against the slave traders. They cut her tendons so she couldn’t walk.” he whispered.

_Don’t need legs where you’re going!_ jeered the slave traders in his memories.

_Swim, SWIM, Apsat!!_ screamed his mother, as she plunged a potsherd into the filthy slave trader’s neck.

His fists shook.

“Strength can mean nothing” the old man began carefully, stroking his scraggly beard.

“I’ll wager your mother an’ father were plenty strong, but the tide of battle can be changed by unexpected forces. Everyone has a specialty, an’ I’m guessing your mother was a dab shot with her deadly arrows… but up close against anyone with good armor an’ a sharp sword, her type of strength wouldn’t be any good, yeah?”

Alacran plopped back down on the hard stones and buried his head in his arms.

“Yeah…”

“That’s natural. People can’t be _everything_ , but…”

Alacran peeked over his spindly arms. 

The old man cracked a smile at the sight.

“You can definitely become strong in an all-round way, and _then_ you can use _this”_ -he rapped his crusty skull-”To adapt that strength into all sorts of applications.”

The boy eyed him suspiciously.

“Like what?”

“A swordsman can learn to slice a man, or stop another’s sword-that’s basics….but he can also use that sword to knock arrows out of the air, to chop up his meat, distract the enemy by tossing it before punching them instead…”

“Ah! Like you did in the bar last night?”

“Mhmm...weeell, everyone’s way of using their strength is different… Ahhh, maybe I’ve been doing this wrong… Tell you what, take a break tomorrow, an’ think about what you want to _use_ your strength _for._ ”

Alacran slept poorly that night, terrible shards of memory forcing their way into his dreams. 

Mother pushing him to run, the salt water swallowing him whole in the night as he leapt from the ship, Father’s desperate roar as one those _bastards_ stabbed him through as he blocked them from following his son…

He awoke in a sweat, the tears and desperate thoughts from his night in the ocean revived.

_If only I was a hero, with a big sword and shield, I could have fended them all off. Protected them, just like Ser Yalnic._

He scrambled to his feet.

-=-=-

“Protect everyone you want to? That’s a tall order. Gonna need a big shield for that, an’ a even bigger brain” chuckled Grandfather as he made his usual unholy-strong tea in a tin cup.

“I think I...no, I _know_ I want to.” asserted Alacran, standing up stiffly.

The old man took a sip of the foul-looking liquid and cocked an eye his way.

“An’ what about your marksmanship?”

“I’ll never forget how to fire a bow. But I’ll do what you said, and use my brain, make that strength into something else. I can hear and see the enemy coming before you can-isn’t that good for battle?”

He chuckled through the tea and then huffed as he choked on the mouthful.

“Hrrfgh! Alright, alright. Let me finish this tea and then we’ll go find you your own sword.”

-=-=-

Alacran sputtered as he suddenly realized he’d been underwater for _far too long,_ and resurfaced in a massive splash.

"H..how long was I down there??" He glared up at the sky.

"What exactly are you trying to tell me, Althyk?" he demanded churlishly, the shock from awaking in water still coursing through his veins.

No divine answer descended from the heavens.

Alacran raked his fingers through salty, sopping hair and groaned.

"Having visions of the past is _not_ how I wanted to spend my afternoon."

The damp paladin dragged himself home, old words echoing in his skull.

_Everyone’s way of using their strength is different._

When he reached the gateposts of the yard, he spun around and glared at the heavens hanging high above the ocean.

“FINE!! _‘History is made of a thousand pages’_ and all that rubbish!!”

No divine sign of approval arrived and he scowled at the sky, jabbing a finger at it for good measure.

“For the record, you are the most _inscrutable_ patron deity ever!”

The xaela stormed into the house, casting wildly about. 

“TIIIIEL!?”

“Over here!” called a voice from the kitchen. Of course.

She looked up, unperturbed as a massive, soaking wet scaly man loomed over her and her tiny pot of soup.

“What on Hydaelyn have you been doing, swimming in your clothes?” she chuckled lowly and pulled the pot off the stove. 

“Sit by the fire, and let me get you a bowl of this before you catch a cold”. 

Alacran nodded numbly, and sank down in front of the massive massive stone fireplace that somehow was always in use, even during the summer. Curse the amateur blacksmiths, he supposed. 

A bowl of thick emerald soup later found his frayed nerves much restored, and he stared Tiel down from across the kitchen table ominously, trying to choose his words.

"What are we to each other?" He finally settled on. Maybe it was a tad too romantic a phrase but he needed to _know._

She smirked up at him slyly.

"My child, of course!"

"I'm not your child" he replied with the ease of long practice, before leveling his gaze on her.

She stilled.

"A very good friend" she smiled, and set her spoon down gently.

He turned the words over in his head with relief, some of the tension in his stomach dissipating.

But still…

"I'm.. no, what are we in...ugh.."

He put his head in his hands despairingly. What a _shite day._

"Why don't I make some coffee?" Tiel asked warmly, rising to her feet. 

"Sure."

She bustled around the kitchen, kicking a stool around in front of her as she went. He peered broodingly over folded arms at her as she did two pour overs and handled a saucepan of warm cream while standing on her tippy-toes.

"This kitchen really wasn't built for you, huh?"

"Oh, not at all! But I don't let that stop me- I do have a little personal stove if I really need it anyway! Here, your triple-cream coffee, just as you like it!"

He accepted it gratefully, and let the creamy, coffee scented goodness slide down his throat and finish the job of warming him inside-out.

Sated, he drooped back into his chair; feeling very much like a sleepy miqo'te and stared aimlessly at the plaster ceiling.

The words finally came, surging out his mouth like bile.

"The first couple years of my life, I grew up in a small tribe, you know that. But when you’re in a tribe, what it really means is that everyone has a role to play, and nobody can really do exactly what they want, because it could endanger everyone else. Your loyalty matters above all else, and your willingness to sacrifice for others. To fight each other to the death for _fun_ is _unthinkable_. It's...a betrayal.. and I…"

The ceiling blurred, and he really didn't want to look her in the eyes right now, so he let gravity pull his tears down the sides of his head and mingle in his salty hair.

"I thought, for you to be able to say 'I could kill you' meant I didn't have a...a place here. That I'm just someone who's living in your free company, who isn't _important._.."

His throat felt so, so tight and his mind was careening around in his skull so much he nearly missed the tiny whimper from across the table.

Tiel began, shakily, to speak, and he forced himself to hold still, not to run away from losing another person.

"I'm sorry… I should have been more kind with my words. Even after collecting such a variety of people under my roof, it seems I haven't managed to realize how different we really are."

_Different_. It burned. But she went on.

"We're two different races, with two different backgrounds, right? I should have thought of that, and learned _more._ Now I know you have your tribe loyalty and.. code of conduct, but for me, families are usually _so big_ and busy that it's natural to push each other's buttons, to say 'you should do this, not that!'... to fight constantly, but still be family. I used to almost _murder_ my brother on a daily basis, but make up before dinner. Conflict was how we made each other _stronger._ "

A bit of warmth re-ignited in his scaly chest, and he cleared his throat.

"For me, strength was always something that I honed for a _purpose._ To hunt for my tribe, to protect my party members and friends. What is it...for you?"

He wiped his eyes and looked down to see the lalafell pull out her staff and rest it on the table. 

She traced over it with her small fingers, eyes gleaming silver in the reflection of the kitchen fire.

"Strength has nothing to do with it. I am a caster, so I hone my _will_. When I lift my staff, the spirits roar in my ears, screaming to be released. If I pushed, to the outermost limits, I might… be able to move a mountain… But I don't. That's too much for any one being to be able to manage. So I mentally fortify myself, I take apart the enemy in front of me, and put back together my allies."

He licked his lips.

"And what of the body?"

She smiled thinly.

"My body needs only to be strong enough to stay alive until I can heal it."

_How many times have you seen her dance on the knife edge of death..._ his mind hissed.

Suddenly, he remembered the time they killed Sophia.

How the entire party had slid off the platform, caught off guard by a new level on the weights. How he’d activated Hallowed Ground, doing his best to stay salwart, but had it wear off at the last second of the tilt.

How he had locked eyes with her, the only person left on the platform, locked in place with Surecast.

How her lips were moving.

“Five...Four...Three...”

And as he slipped into the abyss, how her eyes flared gold as Pulse Of Life burst into existence, even as Sophia rained bloody blows down on her back.

When they returned to the platform in a rush of magic, she was slumped, dead on the floor, but within seconds the scholar had her up again and smiling.

As if she hadn’t just seen them all die and leave her alone to face a primal goddess.

“It must take a lot of will to be the last one standing” he found himself admitting.

“Oh, yes. I had to teach myself not to think of anything else other than how to save everyone! In battle, it’s a bit like a rush on the infirmary in Ishgard actually-all the soldiers come back from deployment at once and demand your attention, and in battle everyone tends to need mending at the same time as well… Well, anyway, what it boils down to is we have different things to worry about, so it’s no wonder we misunderstood each other.”

She reached over the table and rested a warm hand on his arm.

“Regardless of everyone’s differences, you can think of this place as whatever you want, you know. We might not be an ideal tribe, but we’re at the very least something approaching a loose-knit family.”

Alacran let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding-second time today-and took stock.

_One: still great friends._

_Two: informal tribe acquired!!_

_Three: respect the cultural differences, fool!_

He was still hung up on the stupid, _how dare you walk into a den of bloodthirst_ thing though.

He closed one of his hands over hers.

“Okay. Okay… but I _am_ going to ask, why did you feel the need to this Wolves’ Den place in the first place.”

She flinched sheepishly.

“Well, actually… it’s because you’ve been doing such a good job protecting me I was worrying that I was getting rusty”

He stared openly.

“Huh?”

She flushed.

“Back in the day, I’d have to dodge all the attacks while casting, right? But ever since you started protecting me, all I have to do is stay back and fling spells without any trouble. So I...started worrying my reflexes would get rusty. And since my white magic is too strong for any of the monsters outside the Mists, I thought the best place to go to refresh my reflexes would be the Wolves Den-what better opponent than one with a mind of it’s own?”

Alacran groaned.

“So this is all...because I’m _too good at tanking._ ”

“Yep! All your fault!”

 _I don’t like you going some place I can’t protect you_ rose to his tongue, but he held back.

"...I'll come watch."

"Eh? Really!?" She chirruped, suddenly radiant with excitement.

“It’s my fault after all, and… I want to know more about you, I guess. To stop us having all these misunderstandings.”

Her eyes twinkled like moonstones in the fire light.

-=-=-

The next day, he teleported into the Wolves Den and hustled inside, trying to ignore all the burly folk milling around, harboring disconcerting amounts of bloodlust.

Once inside the stadium he clambered up into the stands, and was surprised by the variety of spectators-not just blood thirsty pirates and rough and tumble mercenaries, but spectacle-adjusting elezen chirugeons, lalafellin noblewoman and black mages (what a combo), and...miqo'te children?? 

He squinted. That older miqo'te looked awful familiar…

"ZHLOE ALIAPOH, WHAT IN RHALGR'S NAME ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR CHILDREN???" he screamed up the stands.

She started, and then waved back cheerfully.

"ORPHANAGE OUTING TO VISIT PATRONS! TEACHES THEM ABOUT DIFFERENT PROFESSIONS!!!"

Alacran raked his hair in despair. 

"SO HELP ME, YOU'RE WORSE THAN TI-MOTHER. I'M COMING UP."

The spectators looked mildly amused or annoyed as he clambered over them to sit next to the petite miqo'te but he paid them no mind, having suddenly passed the point of _calm,collected and understanding_ . Now he was more on the path of _why is everyone secretly insane._

Zhloe beamed happily as he sat down next to her and her five young charges with an audible, angry thunk, tail slapping the feet of the roegadyn behind him.

(Luckily the roegadyn was wearing sabatons and paid him no mind.)

Just then, the bards down near the pit began playing music, signaling the arrival of the teams.

He leaned in close to hiss in her ears during the blare of the trumpets.

"Children don't deserve to see the adults killing each other for _no_ good reason. Is there any brain in that head of yours, or have you usurped it with your infernal _pineapple pudding_?"

She shrugged, and motioned to the children.

"Much as the orphanage appreciates your service, it's a bit hard to observe a guard of the sultana at work for a study, so we've come to watch Mother instead! She's a renowned white mage, after all!"

The children, to their credit, looked incredibly enthused even in the face of a glowering Au Ra man with a sword at his side.

“Why couldn’t you just follow her around the Shroud when she cleanses _taint_ …” he muttered.

Just then, the gates opened on both sides of the arena, signalling that the match was about to begin, and the crowd rose to their feet with a roar.

“Look away if you see guts.” Alacran instructed the children and settled in, resigned to his fate.

It took a few minutes for him to sort out exactly where his diminutive friend was amid the fray- bards and tanks seemed to be zipping around with incredible vigor, tossing out limit breaks and indiscriminately inconveniencing people with great flair-but eventually he saw the bouncing twintails pass by on the outskirts of the ring, directly below him. 

By the sudden high-pitched cheers erupting next to him, it seemed the children had also spotted their hero...and _oh no,_ that monk was chasing her down with bloodlust in his eyes.

He clenched the pommel of his sword unconsciously.

The monk leapt with incredible force from behind to strike at her back, and down she went on one knee. The monk, clearly ready to kick a healer when they were down, landed a resounding blow on the back of her head and wound up for a killing blow- only for a dragoon to leap sideways into him, sending him staggering.

“Yay!! Goooo!” 

The pint-sized peanut gallery was in full cheering mode, oblivious to just how deadly this game was. Alacran leveled a glare at them, but quickly returned to staring at the field. Tiel peeled away from the duo, who were now trying to burst each other down and fled up the stairs to recuperate behind a wall.

“Yes!” he hissed, inwardly clapping for his friend…

Until she noticed the warrior on her team was being ganged up on.

“No!”

And off she went, and _oh,_ she was casting Asylum mid-run, enveloping the warrior in healing magic out of seemingly nowhere. The familiar sound of Swiftcast faintly echoed against his horns, and the staggering warrior suddenly surged in strength again as a Cure landed, followed by a Regen. Taking no time for a breath, she volleyed out multiple Aeros on the enemy and took up a defensive stance, summoning up a nice, thick clod of stones.

The paladin from the opposite team noticed the lalafell’s flashy arrival and peeled away from the gang to head towards her. Alacran tensed… and then suddenly, there was a _second bubble,_ and she switched to Medica II, Regened herself and proceeded to laugh as the paladin _tried_ to hurt her. 

It was just the sort of insufferably smug display he’d expect from her.

The respite afforded the warrior gave the rest of the teammates time to arrive, a bard and the dragoon who’d clearly won the battle of attrition.

The children cheered loudly, and Alacran had to agree, his blood was stirring.

The bard indiscriminately fired at the paladin and the rest of the enemy team, while the dragoon took the liberty of dragging the paladin away from Tiel, chasing him back towards the enemy’s side of the arena before switching to hitting the monk who’d returned from the dead finally, courtesy of the other team’s scholar.

Alacran curled his lip as the weakened paladin limped away to recoup, but what was important was he wasn’t hitting his friend anymore… _Wait_.

“What is she _doing_ ” he gritted out as Tiel suddenly threw out another Medica II and then sprinted _past the enemy monk and bard_ in pursuit of the paladin.

They flicked their gaze towards her, the bard turning to level a shot and the monk backstepping.

But she was a woman on a mission, flinging out multiple Aeros at the paladin as she sprinted, twintails lifting in the breeze. 

Once in range, she skidded to a stop, and skipped sideways without _looking behind her_ to dodge a desperate bard limit break. 

Stones rose from the ground and swirled around her staff and she was grinning a yalm-wide smile, all teeth and blood-thirst. 

His scales went cold. 

“STONE, SWIFT CAST, STONE!”

The resulting flurry of boulders tore into the paladin mercilessly, and he collapsed just out of range of the fuming scholar.

“GOOO MOTHEEER!!” screamed the children, bouncing up and down.

Zhloe elbowed him (unsuccessfully) in the breastplate.

“Inspirational, right?”

Alacran watched her retreat, a vivid blood spatter adorning her tiny cheek.

“Something like that.”

He palmed his pommel once again.

_I honed my sword to protect, to defend against wild beasts primarily, and men only when needed._

_Her power is much more primal. The earth sings in her ears and she rains it down upon anyone in her way._

“You’re smiiiling” hissed Zhloe, smugly.

“Sod off.”

In the end, Tiel managed to survive all her matches with only one death, and the arena chirurgeons seemed skilled enough to revive her with little damage. In return, she took one more life-the poor bard never saw it coming- and kept her team mostly alive and in one piece with all her frenatic dashing about to save the day.

She emerged from the arena unsuspectingly to her little crowd of fans at sunset.

“Mother! You were sooo cool!”

“Can I learn to conjure as fast as you?”

“Were you really angry with that bard??”

“Whoa, whoa!” she laughed, stretching up on her tippy-toes to pat the kids on the head.

“One at a time!”

Alacran folded his arms and leaned against a barrel, waiting patiently. Sometimes you needed to know when the kids had you beat.

Finally, she extricated herself from the mini-throng and sidled up beside him.

“Gil for your thoughts?”

He sighed.

"It's never going to be my scene, but… I got to see a different side of you today, so it was interesting."

_Your smile can be terrifying and radiant._

She pouted.

"No 'good job, killing people even as a white mage without much offensive power'??" 

She looked slyly up through her eyelashes, batting them just a bit.

He smirked.

"You're plenty offensive...spare me my kneecaps, I need to walk home."

"Fine, just this once! I'm too tired to put much force into it anyway~!"

He chuckled lowly as she put on the air of a long suffering saint and slung her staff over her shoulder as she walked towards the aetheryte.

"Ready?" she called back at him. 

He opened his mouth to call back, and then paused as the last strokes of the golden-pink sunset illuminated her from behind, setting off her petite frame against the backdrop of the ocean.

_So small. So delicate._

"Coming!" He called before jogging over and kneeling down. 

"Wha-"

The Au Ra planted a huge palm on her head and patted it gently.

"What're you-"

"You know, I thought about quitting adventuring to write full-time recently, but then I found out that I've got a lot more to learn about the world before I can say I know _anything."_

"Oh!" she breathed, and wiggled under his fingers.

"And I've got to say, what I've learned so far-"

He ground down his fingers into her _thick, thick_ skull.

"Is that I just have to protect stupid healers that want to go put themselves in danger."

He smirked smugly at her rapidly wrinkling face and released his hand.

"Let's go home."

-=-=-

It had been a long day, but he wasn't out of energy yet. Everything swirled in his head, the past, the present...the future.

He sat down at his writing desk, ready to write, but suddenly a memory floated into mind. 

Grandfather on the last day he ever saw him; thin, and on his deathbed, but with a smile ready just for him.

" _I'm going now, boy. Just use your wisdom, and your strengths, know your opponents-in life, love and the like- and you'll live on just fine"_

"Now I know my opponent, I suppose" he chuckled, and picked up a brush.

_Sifael was a_ __force of nature_. _

  
  



	8. Having A Ball, Or: How Artoirel Looks Lovely In Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing in on the end of chapters that are prewritten!  
> Dance Definitions:  
> Bouree: a dance where the partners face each other and dance side to side away from each other, then spin outwards in circles before locking arms to promenade, then spinning away again.  
> Pavane: a dull dance of holding hands, side by side, and gently walking forwards, backwards and around in circles.  
> Waltz: We all know this, but the steps are in a general box pattern, with twirls worked in, and the arms are wrapped around each other.  
> Allemande: a dance with light kicks, where you match the kick with your partner while facing each other, and then away, and then with arms intertwined.  
> Minuet: a group dance where the dancers form lines, then the men break off into the middle between the lines, rotate, and fall back into the lines with the ladies, whirl them around, and then the ladies go in the middle, whirl, return etc.  
> Farandole: a group dance where everyone links hands, and then swings their hands up in unison, while stepping/leaping sideways. Can be done in a circle, or in a line that gradually curves its way around the floor, like a game of snake, kind of.

_You are cordially invited to a charity ball for the restoration of Ishgard, to be held on the sixth sun of the Sixth Astral Moon at seventh bell..._

Alacran put down the way-too-fancy invitation and scoffed.

"I doubt they truly want a massive Au Ra pacing their refined dancefloors."

Tiel raised an eyebrow and cracked open another walnut.

"If Aymeric penned the invitation himself, I highly doubt it comes from anything other than the highest sincerity."

He took a second look at the graceful, looping script. 

It did look like the lord commander's script, not any servant's.

"Maybe, but I don't know any of those high house dances, or any Ishgardian manners, for that matter."

"Hmmrgh" his lalafellian friend muttered around a mouthful of nut.

Alacran wrinkled his nose at her and plopped down at the kitchen table. 

"Give here" he asked, holding a hand out for the nutcracker.

She handed it over reluctantly and watched as he cracked open several in quick succession.

"You know," she began after a labored swallow "I don't think that Ishgardian society is going to judge one of their saviors very harshly for lack of social propriety. They know you're best suited for battle, not waltzing."

Alacran plopped all the nuts in his mouth at once and crunched down with great satisfaction.

"That's all well and good, but I don't have any fancy clothes, and I would rather stay home and eat nuts with you."

She furrowed her brows like two tiny blonde caterpillars.

"Huh?"

"What?"

She let out a huge sigh of exasperation. 

"They invited me too, you absolute nitwit! One hero without the other would just be _rude!_ "

"But mine was the only one in the mail.."

"Because Ser Aymeric handed me mine last time I was in Ishgard-hand the cracker back already, would you?"

He handed it back, discomfited.

"I see which one of us he prefers."

She looked steadfastly down at the walnut she was cracking.

"Yes, well… I think it was because I was the one who put the idea in his head- you know, we were talking about the restoration efforts, and got onto fund raising, and I just recalled the charity balls in Ul' Dah for the Ala Mhigan children.. one thing led to another."

"I guess that makes sense" he begrudgingly allowed, even as the words tasted bitter on his tongue. 

Aymeric just seemed a little too _nice_ to his little companion, compared to the genial but cool tone of the man's interactions with him.

"So will you go?"

Alacran reflected briefly. It would be _cold,_ he’d have to endure watching Aymeric and Tiel make cute with each other, and while the food would be good, the idea of talking with people who were not exactly welcoming to his kind wasn’t appealing.

"Nah, not really my thing".

Tiel said nothing, only crunching nuts thoughtfully. 

  
  


Several days later, the xaela was enjoying one of his customary after-breakfast naps, when his oh-so-considerate free company leader burst into his room in an absolute _tizzy._

"Up! I require your assistance!" She demanded imperiously.

He groggily pushed himself out of bed.

"Wha..what in Hydaelyn is going on?" He moaned, mourning the loss of his warm sheets.

She took an indignant breath and adjusted her spectacles.

"I was in Ishgard, going about my weaving deliveries, when I get to chatting with one of my clients. We ended up talking about the ball, since I made her daughter some petticoats for under her new ball gown, and that old crow had the _audacity to imply_ that I would be _ill suited_ to such a gracious gathering, especially since there will be many dances with ' _elegantly tall folk_ '."

She clenched a tiny fist.

"I'm _elegant_ enough! And if not, I've saved her life anyway!"

She rounded on him, full of sparks and vinegar.

"And so, I've devised an excellent solution to not only attend the ball, but attend it in a way where I may join the dance floor!"

Alacean blearily stared at her.

"And what would that be?"

She grinned triumphantly.

"You!"

"Me... How?"

"I'll have you be my legs! If I ride on your shoulders, not only will I be sufficiently tall to dance with all the nobles, I will probably _overshadow them all_!"

She beamed with uncurbed delight at her peculiar brand of problem solution. Alacran stared at her with the weight of logic and the temper of a man who wanted a _much longer nap._

"You're being very...Ul' Dahn heiress right now"

She managed to look somewhat abashed, to her credit, but held her ground.

"Come oooon. Please? I’m just too short to be able to dance with Ishgardian high... _high society_ ” -she paused to wink dramatically- “and this is a splendid chance to prove someone wrong, which I know you love doing."

He ignored the terrible pun and settled himself in for a proper argument. “I’m afraid that the Sultana’s guard training doesn’t cover Ishgardian dances, or any dances at all, really.”

_Besides the drunken sword dances after hours that I always skip out on._

She grinned maliciously and he felt a shiver tickle the edges of his scales.

“My lovely finishing school training covered _many_ dancing styles, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“...can I get paid?”

“Rolanberry cheesecake?”

“I was thinking three hundred thousand gil, but three cheesecakes and thirty thousand gil is alright I guess.”

She pursed her lips in thought, counting on her fingers.

“...twelve cheesecakes. Between the gil and the labor time for making twelve cheesecakes , it ends up being equivalent to teaching you about six dances, _assuming_ you don’t have two left feet.”

"Can I get the cheesecakes paid out over time or are you just going to dump them all in my room at once?"

"Over time of course-I don't think the milkmonger can even get me enough milk to make that many cheesecakes at once!"

He stopped and considered. On the one hand, carrying someone around a ball on your shoulders would not only be a foreign experience, but _extremely embarrassing._ On the other hand, _cheesecake._ And they were _friends_.

“Fiiine.” he whinged, and grasped a nearby pillow.

"Now let me _finish my nap._ " He demanded, brandishing his soft weapon threateningly.

"Very well! But we begin straight afterwards!" She waggled her finger at him, and spun to leave the room, only to pause in the doorway.

"Thank you" she murmured softly, and then shut the door gently behind her.

Alacran tossed himself back into bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"What have I done?" he moaned, and then succumbed to the sweet call of his warm blankets.

-=-=-

Dancing was hell, he decided two days later. Some of the footwork resembled the footwork he’d learned in the Sultansworn, but it was too much about the _swing_ and not enough of precise, driving rhythm.

“Just _feel it!_ ” snapped his tiny, _merciless_ dance instructor.

“Easy for you to say, when you won’t even have to _walk_ ” he grunted, collapsing onto the bottom step of the stairs.

She rolled her eyes and then sighed. 

“Alright. I’ll try to get someone to help, it will make it easier to understand if you have a partner you can actually hold onto.. Class dismissed!”

“You make a terrible school marm”

“Oh hush.”

-=-=-

The next morning found him kneeling over the fireplace, trying to toast his bread evenly, when a tall shadow loomed over him.

"I've been bribed with free artisanal labor to provide my services as a dance partner" 

"She works fast.." he muttered, buying time as he stared up at one of the two roegadyn ladies in the free company. 

Zana. Quiet, perpetually crafting, and nonchalant in her devastating, muscular appeal.

Suddenly the prospect of dancing seemed _much more fun._

"When can we start?" She asked, leaning down to sniff his toast.

"Soon as the toast is done?” he offered, trying his best not to appear overly enthused.

“Right.” was all she had to offer.

He’d never eaten toast so speedily.

  
  


“So… you’re going to be my dance partner” Alacran ventured to Zana, minutes later as Tiel bustled around them, clearing away a dancing-size space in the front hall-somehow she’d managed to get her gold smithing hammers _everywhere,_ plus several dozen potted plants?

Zana merely smiled and rolled up her sleeves. 

_Her forearms are ripped holy-_

“Indeed. I should be able to execute all the dances necessary, so long as Ishgardian society hasn’t changed them much from Twelvewoods"

He cleared his suddenly tight throat.

"I might step on your toes"

"My shoes are steel-toed, as expected from a blacksmith" she blandly responded, popping her collar.

Whew.

“I’ll be taking the lead, as you’ll be carrying the lady” she informed him and unceremoniously wrapped one muscular arm around his waist.

_Whew_. 

He quickly found out he had little time for enjoying her company however, as she was just as relentless as Tiel, but with the added benefit of being able to guide him until he had burned the steps into his muscle memory.

_Is every woman in this free company a stickler for dancing?_

He wondered tiredly as she pushed him through waltz and allemande steps at increasing speeds.

-=-=-

Three exhausting days later…

“Excellent work!” barked Zana, releasing Alacran from her grasp.

“You’ve got a much better sense of timing, and you’ve ceased your efforts to plague my toes with every pivot. Although… I must say your choice to wear armor today really restricted your movement.” 

He felt a little like a fresh sultansworn recruit being praised for their first day without any mistakes.

“Thanks. And yeah, it’s restrictive on the dance floor, I guess, but it’s the best bit of clothing I have, so I thought I should practice in it”

Zana fell silent a moment, something twinkling in her enigmatic lavender eyes.

“Armor is not recommended for dancing, so I doubt you'll be able to bring much of it with you in the end…”

Alacran furrowed his brows.

“What does that me-”

A loud scream from the kitchen cut him off and he whirled around, his _white mage in danger_ senses tingling.

He dashed into the kitchen, to see Tiel on the floor in front of the oven.

“Did you burn yourself???” he demanded, closing in on her with two long strides.

She looked up with sad eyes.

“My souffle...it fell… I’m devastated.”

Alacran stared disbelievingly at her, while Zana burst into gut-busting laughter.

“Nitwit.” he chided, rapping the tiny chef on the head.

“Don’t give me a heart attack when I’m already out there suffering for you.”

“Sorryy” she moaned, and picked herself up off of the floor. 

“I’ve got hot chocolate for you two, at least _that_ can’t fall!”

It was truly excellent hot chocolate, creamy and dark. Alacran sipped it with relish alongside his dance instructor at the kitchen table as Tiel whisked around the kitchen, tidying up.

“I wanted to give you two a snack break-” Tiel complained as she stood on her tippy-toes to fetch a tin of acorn cookies out of the cupboard. “-but evidently souffles have wiles that even master culinarians struggle with.”

Zana chuckled beside him. 

“They are a bit tricky, I’ll teach you some tricks later” she smiled into her mug with all the gentle confidence a master crafter could sport. Alacran suppressed a shudder of appreciation, because these two girls were terrifying when they got deep into the crafting zone-cracking out lumber for new bits for the house and airships for _hours_ while he sat there and picked his nose.

Tiel supplied them cookies and then bustled out of the kitchen to fetch something.

Alacran took the opportunity to nick three cookies from the tin, and passed it over to Zana, who took one impassively.

“So…” he began quietly, in between crunchy, nutty bites.

“So?”

He swallowed a particularly large chunk of acorn and doused it with hot chocolate.

“Where’d you learn all these dances anyway? You said something about the Twelvewoods?”

The roegadyn stared into her mug like it held all the secrets of her past.

For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn't speak at all, but gradually she relaxed in the kitchen chair, and turned towards him.

“Let’s just say... once upon a time a nouveau rich wildwood elezen fell in love with a roegadyn, and together they tried to break into Gridanian high society."

She frowned, and took a sip of hot chocolate while gathering her thoughts.

"...By the time they had a daughter, much of their fortune was depleted, thanks to the poker table, but the child's lessons in all the pretty activities of society continued until the money ran out."

She paused as a shadow ran across her rugged face.

Alacran smiled-encouragingly-, he hoped.

"...And then some things happened, and I ended up here, thanks to Rolanberry.”

She turned away and downed the rest of the cocoa in one gulp.

Storytime was clearly over, as she had returned to her taciturn state. But it was a good start to the whole “mutual opening up to others” thing. 

He gingerly patted her on the shoulder.

"Dunno what to say to that, but hey, thanks. I… well, I can't really relate, but I'm glad you're here to help me with all this… dancing stuff."

It was so much easier to talk about things with Tiel he realized vaguely. 

Zana let out a terse laugh.

"Good thing, I can't imagine how long these lessons would take if you didn't have me."

"Wow, thanks-"

Just then, their free company leader plunged back into the kitchen, carrying a stack of colorful fabrics and papers and spilled them out onto the table.

“I need some opinions!” she grinned maniacally, and pulled out the papers-dress sketches, he realized. 

“In the interests of fitting in on the dancefloor, I’ve decided to draft a pattern for an Ishgardian High House bustle-style dress… but I can’t decide which color cloth to pick, pretty mint green or a festive dalamud red..."

She picked up a minty-green silk and held it up to her, draping it across her shoulders and cinching it around her waist.

"What do you think?" She asked, brandishing her rough sketch of the dress beside her.

His breath caught.

He knew nothing about dresses, but between the sketch and the sheen of the cloth, he could tell she would be _dainty, delicate._ The perfect look for a high-house lady to have.

“Looks good” nodded Zana beside him.

_Traitor._

"Hard to tell, what about the red?" He found himself saying before he knew it.

Tiel wrapped herself in the bright red cloth and with a glimmer of mischief flickering in her eyes, struck a ridiculous pose; arms akimbo and one leg up like a dog.

He stifled the urge to uncontrollably giggle.

“So which one?” she begged, leg starting to quiver from standing only on one.

He could see her and Aymeric together, blues and greens complementing each other. A perfect little winter time picture.

“Red, it matches your spectacles perfectly.” he decided, and blinked, surprised by the vehement tone that had come out.

“Red’s good.” affirmed Zana, saluting the would-be designer with her empty mug.

Tiel grinned.

“I didn’t even think of how it matches! Wow, you have a great eye!”

“Thanks..” he muttered, hiding his sheepishness behind his mug.

_This isn’t bad of me. Probably._

Red and blue were very opposing colors though…

-=-=-

About three weeks later, thanks to a bell or more a day spent in Zana’s arms, Alacran had mastered-more or less- the farandole, pavane and waltz.

Other, more energetic, synchronized dances were still difficult, since he had to separate from his patient, guiding, teacher and match her movements from across the room, but he was _sufficient_ , according to Zana-which was about as high a praise as he was going to get.

A day away from the ball, after a very vigorous session of the allemande, the two collapsed on the floor next to each other.

"Good work today" panted Zana, wiping sweat off her brow. 

"You should get some rest, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Thanks-" he heaved, pushing back limp hairs from his eyes.

"-thanks for your patience."

Zana chuckled.

"I'm getting free labor from a warrior of light, how can I complain?"

"Fair enough" he grunted, rising to his feet. He turned to go… only to run straight into Tiel.

"Oof! Watch it, I _just_ finished my dress!" She moaned, smoothing the wide woolen skirts down.

"Shouldn't you be used to dodging tall people by now?" He grinned, squatting down to her level.

"Very funny" she sneered, before brightening.

"Well, how do I look?!!" She begged, pirouetting in her bright, dalamud red- _take that Aymeric_ \- dress. 

He took it in- the black trim, neat little buttons, slender cut along the torso, and then the dramatic flare from the waist out-wide enough for her to sit astride comfortably, no doubt.

"Like a red toy top"

"Hey!!" She glared at him but then pulled out a package and handed it to him with a smug look.

"If you think that I look like a top, just wait until you're ensconced in red too! You're going to look so _festive._ "

Alacran stared down at the brown paper bundle.

"You didn't."

"I did!" She chirruped triumphantly.

"It's a high house-style justaucorps and breeches, all done up to match my dress! We must be one entity, after all!"

He stared at it with loathing.

Zana loomed out of nowhere, and leaned against the doorframe.

"One must always endeavor to match their escort" she smirked, folding her arms and sending him one of those _firm looks._

"You knew!" He realized, feeling betrayed.

" _Armor is not recommended for dancing, so I doubt you'll be able to bring much of it with you"_

"Don't let all your hard work go to waste just because you don't like tight, red clothes" Zana smoothly chided, and strolled away.

"I guess I did say for you to wear red." Alacran sighed, and unwrapped the package. 

So bloody red.

"Give me a moment." he moaned, and retreated to his room.

  
  


Well, it was on. And it was _tremendously red_.

He turned around, flexing his arms cautiously in the tight wool sleeves. They were restrictive, but had enough give to get through an evening of dancing, at least.

And the breeches actually looked a treat on his thick thighs-hugging the muscular curves nicely, if he did say so himself.

He undid the top button of the shirt though-how a shirt could be more uncomfortable than armor, he just didn't know. 

A throat cleared behind him.

"A request for the ball-goer, who looks like a fop, by the way."

Alacran sighed. Vi-deo, of course.

"What is it? Oh, and your glorious leader made this ridiculous jacket, so complain to her about it."

The slight, short au ra glared at him and flicked her heavily dyed hair over her shoulders.

"Just...keep her off of the booze, would you? I've saved you from that _travesty_ quite enough, I'm not coming out to Ishgard just to drag her home all sozzled, 'kay?!"

He felt a tiny pang of regret for passing the gil so often.

"I'll do my best, for your sake." He sighed, strolling past her to present himself to his little fashion tyrant.

Tiel beamed as he approached.

"Oho! So I _did_ get the thighs right!"

"You did, strangely. I don't recall you ever measuring them…"

She giggled.

"I groped them while you napped once! Hold still, I think I need to hem the breeches a bit more…"

She pulled a pin cushion out of a hidden pocket and kneeled at his feet to pin up the hem.

He stared down at the part in her golden hair as she worked.

"Did you say you...groped my thighs while I was sleeping?"

"Hmm?" She hummed, pulling a pin out from between her lips. 

"Yes, I did, since you would have complained if you knew what I was up to."

"You can't...just go groping people in their sleep!" He sputtered, disbelievingly.

"There's nothing untoward about it, just a professional weaver taking rough measurements! Redolent Rose'd do the same thing if he were me…" she genially informed him while rotating to the other leg.

He wrinkled his nose.

"Who in Hydaelyn's name is Redolent Rose?"

Her hands stilled.

"Excuse me?"

"Like I said, who's Redolent Rose?"

"Only the most famous weaver in Ul'dah!" She snapped, stabbing a pin through the hem ferociously.

He willed himself not to flinch, and soulfully regretted letting her get close to him with anything pointy.

"He's the weaver's guild master, and such a famous weaver himself that royalty _waits_ for him! He's the epitome of style, and his designs are _fantastic_! I can't believe you've never heard of him!?!"

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I wear armor most days…"

"No excuse! Fashion is something that when applied to anyone, makes them shine! So you should pay attention!"

She shoved the last pin in forcefully, just a hair away from his leg.

"When I'm not in armor, I just wear hempen clothes and call it a day." 

She rose to her feet, and poked him in the knees.

"And _that_ is why I had to make you these clothes, so you had better wear them tomorrow!"

He winced.

"I will, promise."

She finally grinned, satisfied with her dressing down and his dressing up.

"Alright, gallant steed. Now get those breeches off so I can hem them."

"Yes, marm." He sighed, and fled for his chambers. 

  
  
  
  
  


-=-=-

The next day came all too quickly. He took his time with his toilette, using the free company bathtub for once to soak away any hidden dirt, and then sat down and systematically combed out his hair, plaited the long hairs back tightly, and took extra care with slicking back the shorter bits. 

Vi-deo walked by the bathroom and peered in while chomping on a massive chunk of bacon bread.

“Fop” she mouthed, bread bits sloshing about disgustingly inside.

“Arsehole” he mouthed back spitefully, and chucked the hair wax at her.

She dodged perfectly, like the ninja-bard she was, and the container of hair wax was forever lost to the world.

Oiling his horns and scales took more time than the hair, but it helped settle his nerves to rub the oil into every visible scale and horn until it gleamed under the lights.

Finally, he donned the newly hemmed clothes, and finding himself with a bell left until they had to leave, decided to raid the kitchen.

  
  


That was where Tiel found him, deep in a cupboard, trying to find the pixie plum jam.

“What are you doing?!”

“Snack” he supplied unhelpfully “Why do we have jars of insects??”

“I was inventing candy.” she sighed, and took the jar away gently.

“With insects."

"Yes, I was being daring at the time. Anyways, it's nearly time to go, are you all set?"

He cast a glance at the still-barren slice of bread on the table.

_Let's just rely on Ishgardians shelling out for food._

"Yep." He sighed, and rose to his feet, dusting off the breeches carefully-they were a gift, after all.

She smiled at him and held up her arms.

Alacran snorted. The image was just too much like a baby that wanted up for him to handle.

"This is ridiculous" he informed her, sliding his hands under her armpits and hoisting her plump frame aloft.

She chuckled deeply.

"That is the point, though?"

"Fair enough."

He slid her onto his shoulders and neatly tucked her stockinged legs beneath his horns-thankfully there was a bit of wiggle room.

_Well this is it, for better or for worse, my high society debut_.

"I'll pay the teleport, considering everything!" Tiel exclaimed, and focused her aether without further ado.

“To Ishgard!”

-=-=-

It was _cold_ in Ishgard _._ Big surprise, but he always hated it every time. Judging from the way his tiny rider shivered as the icy wind whisked past, she hated it just as much. Small consolations.

Thankfully, the Borel mansion wasn’t a far walk from the aetheryte, and they arrived within minutes, amongst a gradual trickle of noblemen and women all dressed up too fancily to be going anywhere else.

He could feel the side eyes, and Tiel clutched at his hair tensely, but remained upright and unflinching.

The guards at the mansion doors bowed as they approached, and opened the doors respectfully, despite the pair's unusual configuration.

Inside the mansion, a crisp blue carpet and array of flickering braziers invited them forward, and a maid in a pure white dress bowed low and waved them towards the room at the end of the entry hall.

A butler in a similarly white coat stopped Alacran gently just outside the room.

"Whom shall I say has arrived?" He queried with only a slight bit of consternation on his aged brow.

"Just Mother, I'm here as a set of legs-" Alacran began, only to be cut off.

"The Warriors of Light." Tiel insisted sweetly.

The butler bowed, and moved to stride into the room.

Tiel carded her fingers through his hair-rest in peace all his efforts to tame it- and murmured lowly.

“This isn’t the most inviting place for either of us, so please, assert yourself as much as you like. We _both_ saved Ishgard, much as Aymeric has a...tantalizing predilection.”

_So she knew_.

“-arriors of Light!” announced the butler from within the room.

“Let’s go!” chortled Tiel, and let go of his hair to fold her hands primly behind his head.

With a deep breath, he flung the double doors open and stepped into the ballroom.

It was less ostentatious than expected, with only a slightly elevated ceiling-thank Althyk for that, considering that they were two people stacked on eachother- and simple small paned windows sandwiched between sections of dark wood panelling- chestnut? He was no interior designer, but Tiel had probably already absorbed it all and calculated the total decorating cost.

A crowd of elegantly-dressed elezen nobles turned their heads mid-conversation to stare their unlikely saviors down. He gulped silently and avoided their gaze, instead craning his neck to eye the refreshment tables lined the sides of the room at intervals, laden with all manner of treats. 

He wondered how many orphans in the Brume they could feed. 

_Let’s pocket some for later._

He wondered what sort of face Tiel was making right now. She must be in her element, eyeing up the room, trying to figure out the power dynamics of the room or something. To him, it just looked like a bunch of pretty people in funny coats and gowns.

The dance floor-his new battle ground- was nice and large for his long legs at least, and up on a small stone balcony lurked a bunch of folks with fiddles and such. Right now, the order of music seemed to be background music-a soft plinky-plonk key-box thing going on.

It was kinda nice...

“When I invited the saviors of Ishgard to a charity ball, I must say, I didn’t expect them to come as one...chimeric entity” spoke an elegant, slightly amused voice from behind him.

Alacran spun around to see Aymeric de Borel there, but instead of his usual affair of blue and gold armor… he was in a pure black suit.

_Blast, matching after all._

His rider hopped down with frightening alacrity and executed the perfect curtsey, straight through the knees, back ramrod straight.

"We thank you for your kind invitations, Ser Aymeric. Tonight, however, we come as one, so I might dance with the high house folk with ease."

Aymeric, to his credit, restrained himself from any eyebrow-lifting, only a hint of a smile curving his lips upwards.

“I see. This might change the results of tonight’s fundraising a bit, but no matter. May I ask that you reserve the first dance for me, if possible?”

Tiel _beamed._

"It would be our pleasure!" 

The elezen smiled warmly, bowed, and walked past them to the middle of the dance floor.

"I must thank all this grand assembly for joining me tonight" he began with his usual, honey-like tones.

Alacran found himself swayed, despite his dislike of the man-truly the elezen was a consummate diplomat and politician, as the lull and sway of his sonorous golden tones drew the whole crowd in, himself included.

"-is my humblest pleasure to host-"

Although, he did tend to go a bit long…

Tiel beckoned to let her up, and Alacran obliged.

Aymeric got to the point, finally.

"And so, to the main focus of tonight: fundraising. Throughout the night, as we see many pairs take to the dance floor, please vote for the most charming couples with donations of your gil-all donations of this manner shall be tallied by these clerks-" Aymeric waved an elegant hand towards a table of bored-looking old ladies. A small elezen boy, also in a white jacket approached Aymeric at this juncture and handed him a covered cushion.

"And the winning couple shall receive a matching pair of pearl bracelets, crafted by one of the foremost goldsmiths in the world!"

Aymeric lifted the cloth off of the pillow to reveal two dainty golden bracelets, bedecked with pearl ornaments.

Tiel stifled a gasp atop Alacran's shoulders, twitching in her shock. The xaela shifted uncomfortably as her skirts grazed his left horn.

"What's so shocking about those bracelets?" He hissed under his breath.

She said nothing, quashing funny little sounds for a few moments as Aymeric finished his pretty speech and placed the cushion on a dais between two guards.

"Oi…" Alacran groaned as she gave him the silent treatment until the musicians struck up an overture, signaling the dancing was to start in short order.

Finally, she leaned down near to his horn.

"You know how Zana needed free labor? It was a rush job for some demanding couple...is what I was led to believe as I assisted her, but apparently the demanding couple was only Aymeric, wanting a pretty prize for his fundraising efforts."

He stifled a snort.

"I guess you've contributed to my torture in more ways than one, then"

“Oh hush, you’re being paid!”

“In cake.”

“And gil! I’ve got a bag of it in my room waiting for you after this.”

“Fair enough-oh here comes Aymeric. It begins” he stated, a touch glumly.

“You’ll be great!” Tiel cooed, patting him on the back of the head.

“Sure.”

Aymeric arrived then, aflush with the triumph of yet another successful speech and bowed lowly, extending an elegant hand to Alacran, and nodding to Tiel on her fleshy throne.

“Shall we?” he offered diplomatically, perhaps sensing the au ra’s unease.

Alacran gulped. 

_Here goes._

He grasped ahold of the elezen’s hand and let the man lead him to the middle of the dancefloor.

People gawped as the trio passed by, no doubt wondering if a creature like him could even _dance,_ let alone with a lalafell aboard.

However, by the time they were in position, he had recovered himself, remembering that they had a _mission,_ after all.

The conductor on the balcony above waved his wand, and the evening began.

Strains of gentle waltz music filled the space, light conversation began amongst the crowd, and Aymeric steered the creature-tower that was his cherished warriors of light in gentle circles.

“I must confess, this is a...unique experience” chuckled Aymeric, with a honey-tone that up close caught Alacran off-guard and sent a flicker of feeling down his spine.

“Indeed” he groaned back , as he tried not to feel _warm_ with the Lord Commander’s fingers resting too gently _yet firmly_ around his waist.

_Remember, he doesn’t like you much._

Tiel chuckled lowly, right above his horn, and bent double at the waist to smile down in Aymeric’s face. 

“It’s really the fault of Ishgardian society, for not providing any male lalafell escorts, and the elezen in particular for growing _too tall_ to do dances with!”

Aymeric, to his absolute credit, didn’t even flinch at this terrifying experience of being double-eyed by a deadly primal-killing team.

“I must remind you, we do have two group dances…”

“Which would crush me underfoot at some point when a fellow can’t see past his own coat-tails! No, this was _absolutely necessary_ " Tiel cheerfully replied. 

Aymeric’s eyebrow twitched, almost imperceptibly.

Suddenly, Alacran was having a _fantastic time_. 

“Tell me, Lord Commander, have you ever considered looking into very tall platform shoes for your shorter guests?” he queried, with no small amount of glee.

“Not...particularly” the man nearly stammered.

Alacran grinned toothily even as he felt a soft leg caress past his horn, _very distractingly._

“It seems like a great idea to me, to prevent the strong-arming of any tall fellow in the area into service for the small folk.”

“I’ll...look into it. For the sake of diplomatic relations. I suppose your Sultana would be quite interested as well?”

He was clearly trying to turn the tables, and Alacran was _so_ ready to commit to bickering the entire waltz away...if it wasn’t for the other leg now locking in under his horns too.

It felt entirely strange-strangely good.

He must be starved for touch, despite Zana's firm grasp and Aymeric’s deceptively strong fingers. 

"Aye, she might at that.." he murmured, and decided to focus more on his footwork and less on gallant banter. Aymeric smirked, just a tad, and Alacran felt as though he'd lost _something._

The dance came to an end all too soon, or perhaps quite soon enough because _holy Althyk_ , he was not accustomed to people touching his horns. Aymeric let him go with an elegant bow, and if he had been a blushing maiden, perhaps Alacran might have fallen for His Grace's chivalrous manners. As it was, he merely thanked him in sync with Tiel and drifted to the edge of the dance floor to sit the next one out.

Time to lay down the law.

"Tiel…" he hissed quietly up at his tiny rider.

"Yes, I think that this brave old lord heading our way is going to ask to dance" she whispered back.

"No!"

Her hand knotted in his hair warningly.

"No, I mean, please just stop rubbing my horns with your legs."

“What?”

“It’s…. _very distracting._ ”

“Oh. Sorry, I’ll do my best.”

The brave lord arrived then, introduced himself as Count Charlemend de Durendaire and together the trio descended upon the floor yet again, thankfully this time for a bouree. 

He wasn't sure if he could handle another person holding his waist so delicately this soon.

However, as the count proved circumspect with his occasional touches, Alacran began to relax and float through the tripping dance steps with ease. 

Zana’s drilling had really helped, he had to admit. He could easily fly through the side to side steps and devote his mind to other matters. Like smirking at all the high society folks who couldn’t conceal their stares.

One older elezen lady in particular on the fringe seemed to be very invested in staring them down. He gently nudged Tiel by rolling his head back against her stomach.

“Is that _her?_ ” he whispered, and rolled his eyes in the old lady’s direction.

“ _Yes._ ” she hissed back with glee.

“ _Good._ ”

He redoubled his efforts to dance without missing a step, perfectly in time with the music. 

The old coot glared at them the entire time, but he left her with nothing to complain about, right down to the gentle way he had locked arms with the unflapped elezen gentlemen for the final promenade.

_Vengeance is always sweet_ , he reflected as the dance came to an end, and his passenger disembarked to fetch a drink.

Maybe it wasn't charitable or particularly heroic, but dishing out just desserts, whether on the battlefield or on the dance floor just felt _good._

Especially for the sake of someone else. 

So help him, maybe he had a hero complex. A complex that made him learn how to dance just to crush a random elezen lady and her racism.

He rolled his shoulders as he considered this, flexing each muscle to take stock. So far, carting a lalafell didn’t seem to be taking an undue toll.

He bounced experimentally on his toes, checking his leg muscles. All good. 

Bless the Sultansworn’s rigorous workouts.

“Well good evening to you, young man!” warbled a voice behind him.

He spun around as an old lady approached, wearing a dress that showed _far_ too much wrinkly cleavage for his particular taste.

“I couldn’t help but notice what a _fine_ form you’re in! Why, you’re the spitting image of my late husband when he was in his prime…”

He somehow doubted this-seeing as he was an extremely tall man with horns and tail-but his general silent disbelief did not seem to affect the lady at all, as she came up uncomfortably close.

He settled on a polite “Good evening, thank you”, but even the cool reception did nothing to stop the woman.

“And seeing as you’re just _so_ much the same, and cut such a lovely figure out there with Ser Aymeric, I just thought to myself ‘Ibritte, it’s like a second coming of Efaut, this must be a sign!’... Oh, and of course it will make that old bat Claiwie _furious_ and isn’t that just what I adore! So what I’m saying, and do forgive me for rambling-I’m merely an old mare-, won’t you have a turn around the dance floor with me? I can make it worth your while!”

Ibritte dropped an extraordinarily suggestive wink and grin to punctuate her breathless delivery, and Alacran tried not to shudder. 

_Althyk preserve me. When Tiel said we deserve appreciation, I don’t think she meant this._

He put on his most stoic, Sultansworn face and bowed apologetically.

“I’m afraid that my companion for the evening-Mistress Mother-has quite claimed my time _entirely._ It’s a pity, but that’s how it is.”

Sensing a wrinkly pout coming his way, he straightened up hurriedly and cast about for an escape.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. Dessert before dinner is my motto.” he begged desperately, and darted towards the safe haven of the dessert table. After careful but hurried consideration, he scooped up several sun lemon tarts in a dainty white napkin and found a dark corner of the room to lurk in, recovering his wits through the force of sugar.

All too soon, Tiel came bounding back to his side, an elezen-sized glass of something _unnaturally_ blue in hand, half emptied already.

“Get ready!” she informed him, just a little too bouncy to be entirely sober. 

“I’ve been making eyes at a couple folks, so I expect they’ll make their way over any moment-”

Sure enough, here came a distinctly pretty gentleman, dressed in a purple coat. He offered the usual elezen ankle-dipping bow.

“Cravellin, of Haillenarte. If our gracious saviours would consent to a dance, I will endeavor to not plague your toes or ears?” the man sputtered out, looking too nervous for words.

Tiel extended a gracious hand to the man.

“I recall you vaguely! You patrol Skyfire Locks, right?”

Alacran blinked. They hadn’t been to Skyfire Locks in _moons._ How did she manage to remember all these people?

The man brightened only slightly, and grasped her hand eagerly. 

“Aye, with little finesse, it must be said.”

“Surely that can’t be true! Such a _fine_ fellow as yourself, from one of the high houses?” Tiel practically purred.

Alacran’s eyebrows shot up practically to his hairline.

It only got worse from there. Throughout every circle of the ensuing allemande, whether Cravellin was to his back or facing him, Tiel continued to let loose a string of compliments and light conversation, winding the silver-haired elezen around her little thumb, until the end of the dance had the fellow stumbling off the dance floor with a stupid smile on his face. 

Before he had a chance to ask exactly what in the seven hells _that_ was, yet another one of them popped up, and the same thing happened again. He ended up dragged along in a whirl of flirtation, being manhandled and ignored for his companion.

It felt disgusting.

He’d had enough after the third fellow that she flirted with, and before another one could come along, he walked off the dancefloor, straight into a dark corner amidst her protests, and slid her off, down onto the floor with a solid bump.

"Ow!" She squeaked, rubbing her arse and glaring.

He glared right back.

"Spill. What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know what you mean." she fumed.

"'Such a _fine_ fellow as yourself' and other embarrassing lines sound familiar?" 

She shuffled her feet.

"It's for business. You know, smoothing my way to weaving contracts, that sort of thing."

"Oh really? Because when I listen to it, what it sounds like is you, trying to make the Lord Commander jealous."

Her eyes widened impossibly large.

"NO!" She burst out, causing several elezen ladies to turn their way.

Abashed, she waved them off.

"No. I didn't even think...no. I wouldn't… I wouldn't dare."

He blinked.

"Huh. Ok. Ok, good."

"Can we go back now, _please_?”

"Only if you save the flirtation for _after_ the dances."

_It feels weird to have it happen right in front of me._

"Deal."

She behaved herself from then on, restraining any effusive behavior until after each dance. As the evening dragged on, however, she seemed to accrue a little knot of tall men around her who plied her with drinks and compliments, before diminishing over time, gentlemen departing from her company with smiles.

"So this is what business looks like, huh." He muttered darkly into a glass of water as he watched from several yalms away.

A snort sounded beside him from a lady with short red hair.

"Sorry!" She gasped, covering her mouth.

Alacran squinted.

"Laniaitte?" 

"Oh! You remember me?" She smiled, forcing another laugh down.

"Yup. Emmanellain talks enough about you to rot my ears off, even though I only see him every few bells..."

Laniaitte flushed almost imperceptibly.

"Is that so? I fear he's obsessed as always. "

"Mhmm."

She cast her eyes away, smoothing down her rolanberry red dress awkwardly to fill the silence.

"Ser Aymeric seems to be staring your partner down." She remarked quietly. 

"Oh _is_ he?" Alacran peered around the room, trying to locate the man amidst the sea of black suits.

Sure enough, the man was stealing glances at the little lalafell, disguising his interest by engaging in animated conversation with a group between him and Tiel. But for a paladin used to watching folk's eyes to judge their next sword swing, deciphering his eye movements was a piece of cake.

Alacean tightened his grasp on the glass.

_Not making him jealous, my arse._

Laniaitte drifted away in the hands of a rather burly fellow during the awkward silence that followed as the xaela privately glared daggers at all of his companion’s hangerson, Lord Commander included.

Eventually the little knot of people completely dissolved, and Tiel silently returned to his side for the farandole. 

“How was _business_?” he tried to ask without any hint of anger as he lifted her to his shoulders yet again.

“Pretty good, all things considered...” she stated thoughtfully.

“Several of them want dresses made for the ladies they’re courting, or at least handkerchiefs. I’ll be busy for a moon straight...”

“Fantastic, finally someone else to be the target of your bedecking!”

She swatted his hair in retaliation, carefully avoiding the horns.

“You like the breeches at least!”

  
  


The lively farandole cleared his head of his unreasonable anger-she was free to do what she liked, regardless of her questionable tastes and lascivious behavior-he reasoned, and soon the lemon tarts dragged his hunger into the fore.

“Snack break?” he queried, breaking off of the laughing line of elezen as the music came to a halt.

“Yes please!” she laughed, smoothing down hair that had flown away during the lively leaps.

  
  


He prowled the length of the savories table, eyeing up the goods.

Little sausages, wrapped in pastry...ho, and there were popoto patties as well…

He turned to Tiel, ready to douse her in sausages in the name of soaking up the alcohol no doubt sloshing around in her tiny stomach...and paused.

She was standing alone, staring out at the dance floor morosely. He followed the line of her gaze with a hint of apprehension...and sure enough, she was observing the Lord Commander intensely as he waltzed an _extremely pretty_ elezen maiden in ice-colored silk around the dance floor, with the most beatific of smiles on his handsome face.

Well, it _was_ a ball, and that _was_ the idea.

If it enlightened her to his real nature, all the better.

_Ooo, parsnip soup, in tiny dishes!_

Maybe he could make a career out of carrying lalafell, if he always got fed like this.

Eventually, his shoulder barnacle reappeared at his side with a new, already half empty glass of wine.

Normally he wouldn't interfere-she’d brought it on herself anyway-but... _she looked so lonely..._ he had promised Vi-deo.

She swayed, flushed far too red and grabbed hold of the table to steady herself next to him. 

Go time.

"That's enough of that" he sighed, and plucked the glass from her little hands.

Tiel glared up at him.

"I wasn't done with that!"

"Oh yes you are!" 

She stilled only momentarily, and then redoubled her pout and made a gamely swing at the precious glass.

Sadly, the wiles of her nature betrayed her and he felt a perverse sort of joy dangling the cup in the air a few fulms above her head.

"Nu-uh! No more wine for you any more, only the _high_ society!" he grinned viciously, and placed the glass down on the tray of a waiter, who had somehow come out of nowhere. Nobles really did have such convenient lives...

"Don't use my pun against me…" pouted Tiel, while eyeing up his kneecaps viciously.

Eventually she gave up, and he coaxed her into eating several popoto patties and drinking a really excellent shot of parsnip soup. By the end she looked much revived, to his relief, and she brightly looked around the room, before grinning and tugging on his breeches.

“Artoirel is here! Let’s go!”

“You mean, let’s humiliate him by making him dance with me plus a shoulder-barnacle”

“Well...yes.” she admitted with a pink flush, swaying dreamily under the candle light.

His heart melted a bit.

“Sounds like a plan.” he smiled, and scooped her up.

They approached Artoirel from behind, and absentmindedly the Xaela noted that at some point her fingers had knotted in his hair in anticipation. 

Tiel cleared her throat gracefully. 

“Dear Ser Artoirel, how pleasant to see you!” she smiled, and tapped him on the shoulder.

The lad almost jumped, clearly not expecting to be tapped on the shoulder by a _lalafell_ , and spun around, shuddering.

Alacran suppressed a smirk as the fellow scanned his eyes down and up his form, searching for the lalafell, before finding her up top with a furrow of the brows.

“Mistress Tiel, Master Alacran. What a ...unusual pleasure.” he managed to stutter out.

They both smiled toothily at the poor elezen, and after a few awkward moments, Artoirel found himself on the dance floor, cradling, of all things, a male au ra in his arms with a female lalafell in tow.

"How _is_ your father, Artoirel?" Tiel queried gracefully as the lad did his level best to compose himself.

"Misses you both dreadfully, I'm afraid" Artoirel managed to choke out, hands tightening at Alacran's waist.

"He's been sick, and misses your tea very much, Mistress Tiel …" the lad bit out, hands flexing in consternation.

Alacran could feel Tiel stifling laughter at the normally very composed heir. He took pity on him, and tried to smile nicely at the boy.

"How's Emmanellain?"

Artoirel straightened his shoulders and swallowed, regaining a little of his usual icy charm.

"Very well, he much appreciates your occasional bouts of instruction"

"Bouts of instruction?" Tiel queried, interest piqued.

Artoirel cracked a thin but gentle smile. 

“Master Alacran here on occasion tends to slip by Fortemps manor to ‘challenge’ Emmanellain to a sparring match, but it ends up looking more like a lesson than a spar.”

“The boy’s form needs tightening up” mumbled Alacran, flushing warmly.

“My father appreciates your subtle efforts.”

“It’s not a problem. Just a stop during my business.” 

_Also known as distributing leftovers to little kids in the Brume._

The trio finished the dance more genially than they began, laughing lightly about Emmanellain’s antics, and Artoirel summoned his usual aplomb to invite them for a nightcap afterwards, should they choose.

“We’ll see, I’ve got a cheesecake at home calling our names!” Tiel cheerfully informed Artoirel, before patting his shoulder, sending him off in the direction of a brown-haired maiden who was giving the lad particularly longing looks.

A few more dances of little note followed, during which the xaela noted that the stream of donations at the old ladies table seemed to be incredibly steady.

Perhaps Aymeric was a genius party planner, or maybe Tiel and Zana were just very good at jewelry. Either way, hopefully the donation goal would be reached soon and they could just go home without further excitement.

“Alright, break time again.” Tiel sighed next to his horn, and rolled her neck so viciously he heard _several_ neck bones crack and pop.

“Ew.”

“I’m an old lady, shush”

“Old my a- er, that is. You’re not old”

She giggled.

“Almost slipped up there, mister nice and polite”

“You lower my guard way too much” he groaned.

“It’s a good thing I don’t drop in on you when you’re on duty at the Sultana’s, huh?” she taunted back.

A waiter appeared like magic and proffered little cups of coffee with a smile.

Alacran deftly scooped up two and let her down before handing over the tiny mug.

She sniffed it with a blissful sigh.

“Perfect, just the right time for a pick-me-up. Aymeric is either stellar at running a menu, or he has _fantastic_ servants. Ooo, fancy a breath of fresh air?”

She nodded towards a balcony that was draped with curtains, door cracked open just a tad to let the hot air and smell of sweaty ball-goers out.

Alacran eyed it with trepidation. 

“It’s _cold_ out there.” 

“Just for a minute?”

“...Well, it is getting a bit ripe in here.”

They smiled at each other and spilled out through the door onto the snow-covered balcony in a decidedly gleeful moment. 

Alacran took a long swig of his coffee and stared out over the frozen cityscape. Starlight illuminated the white-capped rooves, gently leaving the city aglow in white light.

“...s pretty, even though it’s cold” he admitted between sips.

“Mhmmm” hummed his companion, peering over the handrail as best she could, before giving up and leaping on top of it for a better view.

He laughed at her plight. 

“Guess the place isn’t built for you, even if the company is agreeable to you, huh?”

“Hmmmm” she murmured around a deep swig of coffee, before swirling the creamy dregs thoughtfully. A few times she opened her mouth, but shut it again.

Something told him to wait.

Eventually she sighed and drained the mug in one last go before turning to him.

“You know...I was brought up for places like this, and I was excited to come back to it for a fun, special night…. But now that I’m here, and I've put that old bat in her place and done some necessary business, all I can think of ‘I hope the kids made it back from exploring Alexander safely’ and ‘Did Dahlia get back from her evening deliveries already?’.”

She fingered the golden rim of the mug thoughtfully. 

“The old me would have been alight with the glow of the evening and the handsome folk, but I’m just...tired.”

“We could...gooo…?” he ventured softly.

“No we can’t, it’s rude to leave until at least halfway, except in the case of sudden illness.” she chided, with a shadow of exhaustion tingeing her voice.

“Screw the rules, we’re the saviors of Ishgard?”

“All the more reason to stay on ‘till the end. The pockets may open wider in the presence of people that they’re all indebted to.”

“You’re entirely too kind.” he muttered.

_To him._

“No, I’m _really_ not.” she whispered so faintly it barely clouded the air. 

A cold silence stretched out, and more snow landed in her hair.

He shivered as an icy wind slid under his scales and began to freeze his skin mercilessly.

A little hand reached for his. 

“Let’s go back in and if the ball doesn’t end in another bell or so I'll fake a stomach ache and we'll go home and eat late night cheesecake.”

"Sounds like a plan."

The next half bell found him sweating, despite the perpetual chill that seemed to have taken up residence under his scales-sod the snow, seriously- as he danced his way through back to back allemandes. Clearly the burden of carrying a weight on his shoulders while jumping around had finally caught up to him. 

Eventually he had to give in and sit down for the first time that evening on one of the plush blue benches that lined the room.

Tiel patted him sympathetically on the arm as he caught his breath.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” she murmured apologetically.

“No” he wheezed. 

“Just need...to rest.”

“Alright. I’ll go get myself one last drink though.”

“Of course you’re defying my good wishes for your liver.”

She wrinkled her nose and leaped off the bench in a soft cloud of red and white petticoats.

“Come find me when you’re rested! One last dance!”

He nodded, and leaned against the bench tiredly, catching his breath.

What a night.

Eventually, he recovered his energy, and summoning his strength, rose to look ‘round the ball room. He’d kept an eye on her off and on as she worked her way around the room one last time, talking to people, but at some point, she'd vanished.

He began to gradually work his way around the room in search, only to spot Aymeric across the softly lit room also begin a wide circle. He glared at the elezen's elegant back, for he could guess at the man’s aim and redoubled his own scouting efforts.

Curse _high_ society and its wide silken skirts that could easily be concealing one very short white mage.

At least Aymeric was suffering just as much

At last, he had to conclude that his companion had to be on the same balcony that they'd shared earlier, and so he slipped through clusters of elezen to reach it. Unfortunately, Aymeric also seemed to have the same idea, and moreover, had the advantage of the sea of skirts naturally parting for him.

So it was that the Lord Commander slipped out on the balcony much before the paladin.

Alacran stopped short once he reached the curtained doorway himself, as Aymeric seemed to be kneeling in the snow in front of the lalafell.

“-afraid that I couldn’t dance another dance with you, as I’ve lost my gallant steed” Tiel seemed to be saying, even as the faint light from the ballroom that illuminated the little scene revealed a rose-pink blush rising on her tan cheeks.

“My dear warrior of light, did it never occur to you that I could simply carry you?” murmured Aymeric, reaching out to press a kiss to her tiny fingers.

“Eh?? I thought you wouldn’t have the arm strength to hold me up in the air at arm’s length, which is why I employed my faithful companion.”

“I meant, if I embraced you...tightly and let you sit upon my arm.” Aymeric coaxed. 

Tiel flushed red.

“Oh. OH. Forgive me, I am apparently...very unclever- I've forgotten how the Sultana does it entirely”

Alacran mentally groaned from behind the curtain.

Aymeric chuckled, and gently drew the lalafell up into his arms.

"I find your being unclever hard to believe, considering the great feats that follow in your wake."

"Ah, but to heal is instinctual at this point! The mores of society are less so.." winked Tiel, clearly on top of the world.

Alacran clenched a fist tightly and pulled away from the door, flattening himself against the wall as Aymeric stepped past him towards the dance floor, his friend seated in the elezen’s arms. As they wafted past, Alacran caught Tiel's faint whispers.

"I am accustomed to being the tallest lady in the room, in a gathering of lalafell..." She whispered near Aymeric's ear, caressing it with her warm breath.

"...but to be the tallest in a room of other races has been quite the amusing experience."

“You needn’t have forced yourself to match up to me- it is I who should be extending that effort to one of our saviors..” murmured back the Lord Commander, just as _sodding_ gently, and stepped out onto the floor with a spring in his elegant step.

Alacran watched as they began to waltz, Tiel tucked gently against Aymeric’s chest. It was stomach turningly _cute._

He hailed a passing waiter and served himself with a glass of spiced cider after a cautious sniff to check for any stupid spiking.

A slight, black haired elezen girl slid up beside him as he imbibed after deciding that yes, it wasn’t ruined. 

“Very sweet picture they make, hm?” the girl murmured, gazing sideways at him through her blunt bangs.

He took a measured drink of the cider.

“Sure.”

The girl eyed him with interest and sidled closer.

“Why, is she _not?_ Though I suppose that you both are experienced warriors in your own right...”

He felt a little twinge of...something.

“Well, in private... “ 

He leaned sideways and smirked.

“She does tend to like beating me up a bit”

The girl blushed profusely. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize you two were… that _you_ were… like that”

He knew instinctively the stench of perversion.

“No! No, I meant her temper is quicksilver, and my kneecaps suffer for it, naught else.” He rounded out the disclaimer with a firm draught of the _very_ fine cider- _mirror apple?_ \- and eyed the girl a moment before recklessly bending down to her ear. 

“Between you and me, I generally prefer to administer the _blows_ to young, _tall ladies._ ”

Sod the consequences. 

He waggled an eyebrow-hopefully roguishly- for good measure and spun on his heel to raid the refreshment table. Securing several pocketfuls of acorn cookies for orphans seemed an _excellent idea._

"That was...mmmgh...a disaster" he told himself between bites of cookie.

_Shouldn’t have come. Knew this would happen._

Tiel came up to him just after he finished his crumbly raid, looking as though she was floating on a cloud. 

“Sorry, I ended up dancing without you” she apologized breathlessly.

He looked down his nose at her.

"I'm surprised the lord commander is taking a page from Raubahn now"

She flushed red.

"Ah, I may have...forgotten the way the Sultana travels and applied my own logic instead, to your general humiliation, unfortunately."

The perfect chance to strike.

"Indeed-" he began imperiously "-it would seem my extreme dancing efforts have all been for naught." 

She fiddled with the trim of her bodice.

"Unless, you allow me to dance _regularly_ for once"

"Eh?"

"Zana didn't just teach me the women's steps, you see. I managed the men's waltz steps on the last day, while you must have been stitching your infernal ribbons"

"Oh! Then by all means, take to the dance floor, Aymeric tells me the last waltz of the evening is very soon! There was a nice lady next to you earlier, perhaps she can accompany you?"

"I fear I rather...intimidated her. It may have to be someone I know, instead."

She looked puzzled. 

"I don't think Artoirel would know the lady's part…"

"Nitwit, I mean you. May I have this last waltz?"

He gave her his standard Sultansworn bow, and extended a hand. She beamed- _oh-_ like a miniature sun, and put her hand in his.

"You may!"

He gently scooped her up then, one arm at her back and the other under her arse-very squishy, surprisingly-and held her against his chest.

Suddenly, he had a greater appreciation for the thin fabric that had earlier had been plaguing his horns, as he felt the warmth from her body bloom into him, thawing his still-chilled skin. 

"Ready?" He breathed into her pointed ear, lips grazing the helix ever-so-gently. 

She shuddered, and pulled away.

"Why the tickle assault?" She pouted as he began to stride purposefully towards the dance floor.

"Because _someone_ decided to rub their legs against my horns for interminable amounts of time. They're my equivalent of your pointy bits, you know" he laughed-suddenly on top of the world-and shifted her closer to his chest again so he could lean in furtively.

"Perhaps I should caress your ears _throughout the waltz_ as payback" he suggested, crooking an eyebrow devilishly.

She went bright pink.

"Oh nooo! Please, you mustn't!!" She begged, and clutched at his jacket buttons imploringly.

Alacran stared down, suddenly transfixed. Begging was a good look on her, her face all flushed and desperate, with luminous eyes that looked ready to water any moment, and glossy lips that parted with each apprehensive breath.

"It's...it's a very intimate act for lalafell.. I didn't know about your horns...but to touch my ears in a place like this…" She shuddered. 

"It would be a very _lewd_ act."

He had never considered lalafell in any _lewd_ context until now, but with one wriggling and flushing uncomfortably in his arms, suddenly it became easy to do so.

_Shite, is this what Aymeric is feeling when he does his ridiculous hand kisses?_

Food for sodding thought.

The rest of the dance passed in a harmonious daze for the both of them- Tiel was obviously hovering on the edge of drunk still, giggling deeply as he spun rigorously. And Alacran… was just trying to quash any _sinful_ feelings. 

It wasn’t _right, normal._

_Can you even...with….Sod that, she’s your friend! This is wrong!_

By the time the fiddlers and tinklers finished their business with a resonant grand finale, he had managed to quash the feelings and tuck them firmly away in a little box to examine _later._

Gently, he set his tiny dance partner down on a bench, and plopped down beside her, the last dregs of his energy spent.

The dance floor cleared away swiftly as Aymeric bore the bracelet cushion to the center of the room, a triumphant smile lighting his handsome face.

“Gentlefolk, our winner has been tallied."

Various cheers and shouts of over-soused joviality rang out, drowning out Aymeric for a minute as he smiled graciously at the crowd, alight with the shining triumph of successful party planner. 

Tiel leaned forward eagerly, peering through the mass of skirts..

“Who do you think it’ll be!?”

“I really don’t care...” he mumbled.

_I have some burning questions about the nature of Aymeric’s affections instead._

“Once this is done though, let’s go for that nightcap after all- it’s been ages since I’ve seen Edmont” he remarked as casually as possible.

_And I have some burning questions for Artoirel-failing that, I’ll just roust Emmanellain from his bed._

She stretched luxuriously- _like a sleek fat cat_ \- and yawned. 

“Sure, I put the cheesecake in a crock in the bottom of the pond at home, so it’ll be chilled all night anyway.”

He snorted affectionately.

“Of _course_ you already took that into consideration.”

The raucous applause died down, and Aymeric flat out grinned.

“With the greatest pleasure, I must announce that the winning couple of the evening, with a grand donation total of one hundred twenty-six thousand gil is…Lord Artoirel De Fortemps and Lady Ophelie De Dzemael! Let us applaud these young people’s victory, and pray that it signals, perhaps, an olive branch between their houses?” 

The message could not be clearer, and though Alacran didn’t pay much attention to Ishgardian politics, he found himself impressed at Aymeric’s attempts to not only address the restoration efforts, but inter-house unity in one fell stroke.

“Did he tell you to push Arty towards her?” he prodded, curious.

Tiel flashed a smile.

“When I first brought up the idea of a ball, his words were something like ‘It would certainly be nice to encourage fresh inter-marriages for the sake of unity’”

Alacran suppressed a shudder.

_Politics._

Artoirel and Ophelie graciously accepted their bracelets, room awash in applause, and Tiel rose to her feet.

“Let’s go congratulate _Arty_ , then get that nightcap.”

-=-=-

Artoirel raised his hand, peering at the pearl bracelet yet again under the shimmer of the lampposts as Alacran and Tiel escorted him home to Fortemps Manor, laughing along the way.

“Your craftmanship never ceases to impress, Mistress Tiel” 

“Oh, I only assisted, really! Zana did aaall the heavy work!” giggled Tiel, stumbling on a patch of ice. 

Alacran grabbed on the back of her dress and lifted her upright again before she could spill onto the ground.

“You are _far_ too tipsy still-Artoirel, please make sure you give her nothing alcoholic when we get there.”

The elezen laughed merrily. 

“I believe my father may have received news that we were coming already and roused the steward to make hot chocolate. He knows your tastes well by now.”

Tiel brightened.

“With cinnamon?”

“With cinnamon, much as that addition pains me” smiled Artoirel fondly.

“It’s good to see you two again, even if it meant having a most...interesting experience.”

“Sorry about that” sighed Alacran, as he scooped Tiel over yet another patch of ice.

“Don’t apologizeee” berated Tiel cheerfully “We did it because of _me,_ and my stupidityyy. Now that I know what to do, it’ll be much nicer for everyone-ohh we’re here!”

Artoirel waved the guards to relax as the trio approached the gates.

“Welcome home” the elezen smiled, and opened the door.

Alacran breathed deep as he stepped into Fortemps Manor for the first time in a while. 

The scent of the familiar fireplace, and orange-scented floor cleaner hit his nose.

It felt like settling into a warm bed.

Edmont rose from his chair by the fire in delight.

“Mistress Tiel, Master Alacran! What a pleasure!”

“We’re back yet again” Alacran smiled, and prodded a dozing Tiel forward.

She blinked sleepily, then brightened. 

“Edmont! You’re all better, right? Otherwise, you should be in bed!”

The aged elezen chuckled warmly and beckoned them over to the fireplace.

“I’m well enough to visit with great friends, even at this hour.”

The company took seats on two soft sofas, Edmont and Tiel to one, Artoirel and Alacran to another. The house steward loomed out of nowhere and handed out warm mugs of hot chocolate, and Alacran felt the last bits of social tension leave his body as Edmont took a large sip and promptly managed to leave just a droplet of cocoa on the side of his distinguished mouth.

Artoirel quietly snorted into his mug and Alacran just stifled laughter with a huge sip.

Tiel drowsed over her mug as Artoirel recounted the events of the evening, rousing at intervals to interject particularly juicy tidbits, but eventually she fell back against the sofa back, lolling her head against Edmont’s side. 

“She’s out like a light” murmured Artoirel gently.

Edmont chuckled, and gently lifted the little white mage in his arms.

“I’ll put our dear friend to bed while you lads have yourself a drink. Master Alacran, feel free to stay the night as well” the old man asserted, and softly left.

Alacran stared down at the hot chocolate as the fire crackled warmly.

_What a night._

Artoirel stretched out next to him leisurely, evidently tossing formality to the wind for good for once in his life.

Alacran eyed him wonderingly.

“Say, Artoirel.”

“Yes?”

“Do...are there elezen that fancy lalafell?”

Artoirel furrowed his brow.

“Are you implying I and Mistress Tiel…”

“No! Nah, I meant… Well between you and me, Aymeric is far too fond of kissing her hands. I thought it was respect, or friendly affection but...I mean, you lot don’t often mix your races, but maybe...”

Artoirel lazily rolled onto his side, facing the flustered xaela.

“It wouldn’t be fitting, or appreciated by society, I expect. You only just managed to scrape by tonight with your various displays thanks to the weight of the salvation you’ve wrought.

That said, the knights do like talking about brothels when they think I’m not listening…”

A flush worked its way up the young man’s neck.

“..and I’ve heard _choice appreciative words,_ shall we say, for lalafell. I suppose it is within the realm of possibility that he desires her in _every way._ ”

Artoirel was fully red now, the fire light doing nothing to conceal the heavy flush.

“I cannot claim to understand their charms, but Ser Aymeric is ever an open-minded individual.”

“I see.” Alacran choked out, and downed the hot chocolate in one gulp.

“Goodnight, Artoirel.”

“Goodnight, Master Alacran.”


	9. Obsession: Blood & Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post this ages ago but my muse (he'll hate being called this i can already hear the screams) gave me some editing feedback which I then proceeded to not implement and instead began to write an opera instead. Which is possibly the greatest act of lazy postponement one could ever undertake.
> 
> But I finally freed myself of libretto writing and came back, so here's part one of three delicious doses of my train to angst town.  
> Enjoy.  
> cw: in case you couldn't guess, this fic has lalafell x other race coupling. Some people don't like this. That's fine but it's on the label and this is your point of no return.  
> cw: brief mention non con sexual activity. Very small.  
> enjoy

_“What are you?” Thordan asked with fear in his aged eyes, as their shadows overtook him and lengthened beyond his ken._

_Together they stared the man down, and their last stitch of kindness dissolved as they let him bleed out on the floor of his indiscretions._

  
  


-=-=-

The Quicksand had a heavy cloud of midday sweat and sun laying thick inside it; laughter and the scent of a dozen perfumes swirling around in a storm over the lunch-time rush.

Alacran had experienced a sudden craving for lassi that only Momodi could fulfill- or so he had thought, but now he found himself suffering for it, squashed between two groups of lalafell maidens at the bar.

Everywhere he looked, there was another petite, giggling girl, flicking her pinned-up locks over tanned shoulders and downing impossible amounts of alcohol.

_Curse lalafell and their love of afternoon drinking._

“Totoru! Do you like my nails? I _just_ had them done, and the little hearts are sooOOOO CUTE!!” one blonde lalafell demanded excitedly of her companion seated next to him.

Alacran flicked one eye down in mild curiosity- the idea of nail decor foreign to him.

Sure enough, at the end of each tiny finger, the nails were coated in some type of pinkish shellac, and little heart-shaped gemstones seemed to be glued to the pointer fingers.

_A marvel she can live life with stones stuck on her fingers._

The girl caught his sidelong glance and smirked.

“Hey Mister~! Fancy these, do you?” she giggled, scrambling up onto the bar to present them closer to his face.

He blinked madly, trying to focus on the tiny gems now dangling in front of his eyes instead of how distractingly low-cut the girl’s lacy tunic was.

“They’re uhhh… really sparkly?” he offered awkwardly.

Totoru and the girl both laughed in a tinkly sweet tone that sent a tiny jitter up his spine, and the blonde one winked at him.

“P’raps you might like seeing what they did to my toes later?”

He flicked an automatic eye down to her diminutive feet, encased in curly-toed shoes.

“Why would I-”

The lalafell licked her lips and dropped a heavy wink.

_Ohhhh Halone._

Suddenly it was much too hot in the bar.

“I’m… I’m afraid I’ve got guard duty this evening. Sultansworn, you know how it is??” he begged off, feeling a flush rising.

_It’s one thing to write seduction..._

It was another to experience it.

The girl-no, woman he hoped- _how do you tell-_ shrugged and slid easily off the bar, brushing past his leg warmly along the way.

“I don’t mind airing them out late-night either” she grinned, and patted him on the leg.

“I’ll uh. Think about it" he muttered.

 _I will, but_ _not like that._

He gulped down the lassi as fast as xaelaly possible and fled.

  
  


-=-=-

A few days later, after standing guard outside the Sultana’s chambers and being forced to visually inspect every little visitor that came to pay their respects, he’d come to the conclusion that lalafell were driving him mad. 

The sudden ability to notice the beauty of a race he had hitherto considered as mostly disgusting was driving him to distraction. It was like he’d descended into the seventh hell.

Everything about them caught his eye, made him _think_ -the thick hair, sparkling eyes, round diminutive frames that suddenly seemed like they would be lovely wriggling around in his futon-oh _Althyk._

_This can't go on._

He needed to figure this out, what it really was-whether some twisted extension of his admiration of the Sultana and Tiel that had squirreled its way into his head after too many years with _nobody_ or… something more fleshly.

So he found a cowl, concealed himself as best he could for being seven fulms tall-the sultansworn would never stop teasing him if they saw this-and snuck his way into the depths of his favorite knowledge repository; a dark Ul’dahn bookshop that specialized in works of, well. 

Romantic elucidation.

Which was how he found himself wedged in a private corner, feverishly flipping pages of less than proper publications. 

Dust motes wafted out of a particularly old tome with some incredibly….elucidating diagrams featuring lalafell women with men from various races having themselves a _grand_ old time.

“This… this is a _kink_ ” he told himself, staring at the pages.

_Not something your friends deserve to be the target of._

Fine then, he could deal with that. 

Direct it. 

People liked getting spanked, or wearing dresses, all manner of things.

So he liked people a third his size. 

No need to subject a very good friend who had been with him through thick and thin and the most excellent bar keep in all the land.

Just another side note to add to the list of things he found attractive in people.

Be the height of his kneecaps.

Definitely.

“Everything alright back there, Ser Cero?” called the shop owner around the stacks.

Quickly he tried to shove the weighty tome back onto the shelf, but its large nature and the tight packing of the shelves made it difficult.

Panicked as he heard little steps creep up behind him, he settled for _carefully_ tossing it on top of the bookcase and spun around, sweating.

“Uhhh yes, just doing some...research for my next novel!” 

The wizened shopkeep looked around him at the shelves, and then hid a grin- _oh Althyk-_ behind a little hand.

“Ah! I see! May I expect that your next sultry heroine will be of my race, then? I’d always rather hoped you’d turn your talents from hyurs and roegadyns to lalafell!” she cheered.

He tried desperately to school his features.

“Ah yes… I’m taking it into consideration.”

“Hoho, then might I recommend _this_ one and _this_ one?” she asked, deftly retrieving two slim volumes from the lower shelves and proffering it to him.

Carefully he cracked them open, and then stared in disbelief.

“Are those.. Amalj’aa???”

The old lady beamed up at him.

“You got it!”

Shuddering, he closed the book.

The world of hedonism was, at times, far too vast for his liking.

Compared to...that… his desires seemed a little more manageable. Absolutely. 

He was _fine._ It was _fine._

And so he carefully put those desires into a little box in the back of his head, and then divided it up into characters for his novels.

So, horrifyingly, he liked lalafell now. But it wasn’t like it was relevant to the _here and now,_ considering his job left little time for romance with _anyone at all_. So he may as well profit off of this attraction if nothing else.

And frankly, what better way to work out your feelings for something more than write them into prose? 

  
  


-=-=-

Unfortunately, such writing proved obsessive.

Normally, when Alacran was deep into the groove of bringing out the delicate feelings between the toughest of characters, the world faded away and all he could feel was the intense stream of consciousness that was solely concerned with how to portray every tiny emotion his characters had.

This time, however, he completely lost sight of time, place, and the fact that he had no clothes on and hadn't slept in two days.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Tiel had persuaded him to at least furnish his barely filled room with an open hearth for warmth- it burned so slowly he barely had to spare a thought for tending it.

Right now though, even the last dying embers of his little hearth were far from him.

" _Turoc sighed to see the tell-tale glint of the gold bracelet encircling the Sultana's wrist. An engagement gift that seemed to him more a chain to bind her to another than anything_ ….No, that's not quite right…"

He sighed, and bit the tip of his ink brush worriedly.

"I should portray this more...wistfully…"

The soft knock at his chamber door didn't register.

" _He clenched his fist so tightly that his nails drew blood. The glint of gold mocked him for his inadequacies and he felt bile rise in his throat, even as he held steadfast en garde-_ hmm, is bile too dramatic??"

The knocking had increased in intensity, but still the Au Ra caught no sound of it with his horns, large though they were.

  
  


Outside, Tiel was positively fuming.

“I’m going to kill him. Two days, light leaking out from under the door continuously… that idiot probably hasn’t eaten or slept _at allllll”_ she ground out.

The little lalafell stooped to place her steaming dish of stew down, and then pulled out a black soul stone.

“I’m no real black mage but...FIREEEE” 

Flames engulfed his door in an instant, reducing it to ash. She quickly yanked out her usual glowing white stone. “Fluid Aura!!”

When the smoke dissipated, there stood her friend and stupid nemesis, bleary eyed, wearing nothing but a blanket that seemed to have been quickly slung onto his hips.

"Why." he asked flatly.

Tiel blinked a moment, distracted by how the scales presented on his body-glimmering black patches nestled along expanses of lavender skin. It had been a long time since she’d seen him without a shirt. Most Au Ra were fairly modest; even Vi-Deo bathed privately-blatant about so many things except that.

She wondered briefly how scaly it was round back where the tail was.

The scent of the stew rising reminded her of her original purpose, and she quickly kicked the tray along the floor to his feet.

"You haven't eaten for days, have you? I refuse to have one of my kids starve to death because they're too _stupid_ to look up from the page."

“I’m not one of your _kids_ ” he glared, but stooped to pick up the bowl.

“What _have_ you been doing in here, anyway?” she asked, peering through the last plumes of smoke.

Alacran ignored her, due to his sense of hunger returning like a hawk coming to roost, and took a perfunctory taste of the soup.

“Warrior’s stew?” he asked immediately, with no little amount of awe.

“Hmm?” Tiel asked, staring at all the discarded papers on the man’s floor.

“This is Warrior’s Stew, right? It’s a taste I recognize from when I was a kid.”

She stooped to pick up a paper curiously.

“Yeah, I thought I’d start researching Far Eastern cuisine, since I’ve pretty much got Ishgardian cuisine on lock… wait, is this character… a lalafell?”

“Huh?” he quickly wheezed, and yanked the paper from her hand.

_Don’t be the sex scene don’t be the sex scene… oh Althyk it’s the awkward foreplay scene._

She looked up at him with no small amount of smarm.

"Alacraaan. Are you making your next busty heroine a _lalafell_? Not to mention, in a mixed race coupling??"

He winced, hoping against hope that the floor would cave in and swallow him up _right now._

Tiel paused, seeing his uncomfortable flush and then sighed gently.

"Alright, clearly writing races you're unaccustomed to has distracted you immensely, I’ll leave you to it. Just promise me one thing: you will come out for at least _one meal a day_. I refuse to have anyone starve under my roof!"

She jabbed a decidedly motherly finger at him in righteous indignation for good measure.

Alacran nodded eagerly, praying she would go _right now_ and leave him to his shame.

She smiled up at him, and then left as quickly as she had arrived.

Soon as she'd gone, he quickly scrambled to pick up all his scattered papers.

_No more_.

"Oh Alacran??" her voice returned, and he spun on the balls of his feet.

"WHAT" he barked.

She smiled, and waved a hammer and tacks.

"I'll make you a new door, but for now let me tack up a tablecloth to give you privacy."

"...thanks."

"Oh, and Alacran?" she smiled spritely around a mouthful of tacks.

“YES?”  
  


"With more vigorous scissoring of the fingers, your lead might have a better time."

That settled it, he was in the seventh hell. 

  
  


-=-=-

_It's definitely the Sultana. He has a crush on the Sultana and now he's writing fiction about her!!_

Tiel stifled an undignified shriek of glee at the thought.

The pissy, silent paladin falling for a Sultana… oh, it was _too_ good. No wonder he was capitalizing off of it. 

She hid her grin behind the tablecloth, shoulders shaking from silent laughter. 

Time to leave the man to his own devices.

She had her own affairs to deal with tonight, after all.

_What are you?_

An aged memory of a voice hissed across her mind briefly before she banished it with thoughts of gil and thumbtacks.

  
  


-=-=-

“Thirty five million if the house sells, seventeen million in liquid, ten in investments…. Loans five hundred sixty-three thousand…”

Tiel paused to pull off her spectacles and pinch the bridge of her nose tiredly.

“Sodding accounting” she announced to nobody in particular, seeing as her chamber was empty… until midnight anyway.

Her tea was cold, much to her annoyance, but she doggedly refused to replace it with a tumbler of whiskey to numb the agony of mathematics, because accuracy in accounting is _paramount._

“Right then, considering the likely going price for furniture in Gridania, I can afford to invest…”

The shadows lengthened as she pored over her books, the furrow in her brow deepening with each turn of the page and scribbled note.

“And if I keep the grocery bill under two thousand gil a week… alright…”

A knock sounded at the door-eager, triple tap.

Tiel smiled and rolled her neck, producing a symphony of crackles.

“Come in, Dahlia.”

The short miqo'te poked her head around the door, beaming.

“Can you brush my hair? Pleaase? Oh, and I made you a sandwich! Cause you missed dinner.”

Tiel chuckled lowly, and received the sandwich plate and hairbrush duly in hand.

“Sit down then-ooo, egg salad!” 

“Vi-deo said it was your favorite, so I tried my best!”

“Mmmgh, good job.” the lalafell spoke around a mouthful of egg.

Dahlia giggled, and plopped down on the floor at Tiel’s feet.

After another tremendous bite of eggy goodness, Tiel forsook the sandwich for the gentle process of brushing out the young miqo'tes thick, bobbed hair.

With every rasp of the brush through the tangled strands, Dahlia melted against the chair, closer and closer to the lalafell, until she was practically curled up against her, low purrs rumbling in her small chest.

"..s pity" the girl murmured drowsily between brush strokes.

"Hmm?" 

"Pity you don't have...bigger tongue."

Tiel clicked her (admittedly small) tongue at that, and yanked at a tricky knot.

"oWww!" Dahlia yelped, tail thumping the floor in consternation.

"Lalafell do not _lick_ their children, I must remind you, dear. There are very _few_ things I will lick besides food-"

_Oops_.

"-er, so. Not grooming you like that. Go bug Kaga or Lisa."

"But Lisa criiiies and Kaga falls _asleep_ "

"Then feed her three triple cream coffees and see what happens!" Tiel gaily sang, giving the violet strands one last vigorous go-through.

"There, all done, shiny and pretty just like always!"

"Thanks Mom!" The miqo'te sang out, springing to her feet energetically.

"Now get out, I've got to clean up in here!" Tiel smiled, waving her away.

The lalafell waited until Dahlia left, then rose to her feet with a groan.

"Right then, let's change those sheets.”

  
  


The advantage of working in healing was that you become incredibly efficient at making beds, and minutes later her bed was tidy and fresh.

“Maybe a scented candle…” she hummed, disposing of the sheets into a basket.

Carefully, she selected a candle that smelt of lavender, and lit it with just a spark from her black mage staff.

Refreshed by the scent, she returned to her accounting with a flourish, and another half-bell found the task done.

The clock chime for the twenty-second bell caught her unawares, and she shot up in a tizzy.

"Night gown! Bother, where is it...Oh! Wine to loosen up! Nearly forgot!"

A glass later found her loosely sprawled on her fresh bed, draped in a night-dress of ceruleum blue. 

A dark hair on the floor caught her eye, and she rolled off to fetch it.

“Dahlia sheds like...well, a miqo'te” she sighed, binning it. A sudden wave of dizziness came over her, and she clutched hold of the trash can to steady herself. 

“Like a miqo’te…” she muttered, and slid down onto the floor, wrapping her arms round her knees.

The room was so very empty and cold.

She closed her eyes for one ill-advised moment and swiftly fell into a deep sleep. 

She dreamt of wide beds under sand-beaten rooves, of girl-children huddled together under the heavy sheets giggling in the thick of the roiling, stormy night. 

Of fresh flat bread in the mornings, the heft of the shuttle in one hand and the feeling of the other spreading the warp of fresh wool thread open.

Of sweet, pudgy, babies, pawing at her face and cooing.

When she woke, the floor was freezing, her bottom sore. 

And a thin hand was carding her hair.

She tilted her head back with the weariness of sleep interrupted and fitfully obtained, and stared up into her midnight visitor's eyes.

"Hello there, dear."

-=-=-

Night time was always ridiculously quiet compared to mornings in the house-no resounding cupboard slams in the kitchen, or whoops and hollers from Dahlia as she sorted her mail bags, or Akimi screaming about "hot chicks bro just come with me, be my wingman!"

Perfect for writing.

Well, perhaps Alacran would try to go to bed on time this time.

Tiel had seemed rather enraged for her doing.

The writer spun his brush between his fingers and leaned back as the clock struck third bell. The freshly painted words blurred in the hazy candle light.

Bed time.

Well, maybe a piss outside first.

He pulled on breeches and a hempen shirt and stepped out into the hall, yawning.

"Huh?" He muttered to himself, peering down the dark hall.

Faint candle light was trickling out from under Tiel's door.

"Guess she can't sleep either.." 

Well, nature called.

He slunk out of the house and leapt over the fence to his preferred patch of grass. It was the most plant-tending he was likely to do in his lifetime, really.

The xaela tucked his scaly business away with a sigh of relief and turned to hop back into the yard when the front door swung open softly. He froze, and checked that his breeches were really all the way up, for the sake of early morning wanderers… only to stare in confusion as an _elezen_ stepped out onto the porch and turned to bow to someone just inside.

_We don't have any elezen in the free company._

The door closed, and the elezen shifted their bag over their shoulder and strolled away, humming...an Ishgardian guardsman tune.

He paused, torn. His bed was calling, but who on Hyadaelyn goes around visiting people at _third bell?_

Unless it wasn't a social call…

_Candlelight._

A strange, thin, _hot_ feeling bled through his veins, and before he knew it, he was in pursuit.

_Who._

The elezen reached the gates of the Mists with apparent ease of familiarity, and mounted the black chocobo awaiting him with a groan that bespoke of well-used legs. Alacran peered through the pale starlight and dark shadows, willing the man to pass by a lamp on his way.

Then the heavens blessed him-or perhaps, cursed, and for a moment pale moonlight broke through the heavy clouds.

  
  


It was a face Alacran _knew he knew_ but where from?

Silver hair pooled over the elezen's shoulders, and shimmered under the moonlight.

Alacran shuddered.

Some folk were too meant for the glory of night and the misdeeds therein.

The elezen left as quietly as he'd come, a near silent hiss to the bird, and he was off through the gates.

Alacran returned home slowly, suddenly weary.

Nobody else was up, the house was blanketed in shadow and dull mystery.

The light under her door had gone out.

  
  


-=-=-

He said nothing the next morning over pancakes, decorated with rolanberry-smiles and dripping with birch syrup.

Tiel sent him berry-stained smile over the table.

"You're pensive this morning-need some tea?"

"Yes, thanks" he muttered, extending his mug, and sizing her up-admittedly pensively- as she leaned over to pour into his cup.

No markings on her golden-brown wrists, or her sloping neck. 

But she was wearing long robes.

Well, either she was careful, or he was reading too much into it.

But why should it matter to him if it was what he thought it was? Surely, just as he was free to explore his desires through writing, she was through...the old fashioned way.

  
  


By the time he'd drained his tea cup, he'd decided that it would not be proper manners to stick his nose where it didn't belong, even if it felt strange to know that some nights, just down the hall his friend might be getting- _no, stop. We don't think about that._

So he ignored it, and steadfastly went to bed before third bell for a month.

  
  


Just in case.

  
  


-=-=-

Then the deadline for his new book hit, and being the dedicated writer he was, Alacran decided that it was time for another all nighter to finish the thing- then he'd eat breakfast in the morning according to the promise and sleep the day away.

  
  


Life has a funny way of not going as you plan it.

  
  


-=-=-

  
  


It was the third or fourth bell, and his nerves were raw, his eyes bleary and he just _couldn't_ figure out how he wanted it to _end._

Turoc may have been a capable, if angsty protagonist up until this point, but would he allow his nobility to drive him away or would his strong heart overwhelm him? Would he confess his feelings? Or put them away?

Figuring out the final choice of a character was so endlessly hard.

He needed...something. Tea, perhaps.

Slowly he rose to his feet with a groan, muscles creaking. 

The writer swung his newly installed door open and stepped into the hallway, heading kitchen-way.

He was almost at the end of the shadowy hall when he heard a door creak open and his paladin instincts took over before his mind could remember why he hadn't been going out at night.

  
  


Sure enough, there that elezen was, pulling on a cloak as he stood in Tiel's doorway to say his goodbyes.

Tiel was saying something that didn't quite drift down-hall, but the light of the candle she bore illuminated her affectionate smile that was pointed the elezen's way.

Something about it irked him, and he was about to slink away, when Tiel made a sudden motion, the "I've forgot my muffins in the oven!" type of motion, and dove back in the room, only to return with a sack in hand, which she handed over to the man.

The elezen smiled, and patted her on the head, before straightening up.

The sack _jingled_ as he moved past the wall sconce, revealing two things at once to Alacran.

First, that he had _definitely met the man_ before, at the ball no less. 

And second, that he’d just been paid for romantic services, like as not.

Alacran felt sick to his stomach in that moment, before the bile turned to flame. Abruptly, he dove through the hall door and dashed into the kitchen before the elezen could see him. He grasped hold of the kitchen table and wheezed.

_Steady now._

_Oh Halone. It's him, from the ball. The Haillenarte fellow who self-deprecated at every turn._

_How can she…_

“I _thought_ I heard footsteps in the hall” a soft, familiar voice sighed behind him.

He spun to see Tiel, hair down in messy golden waves. She was clutching a silken robe over her lacy nightgown with one hand, the other holding a candelabra. 

Red marks littered her shoulders, he noted to some small, twisted satisfaction.

_She really did hide them._

“I couldn’t help noticing… your paramour?” he began before even pausing to think.

She shifted her feet, some small relief flitting across her face-until he chased it down instinctually.

“And _then_ I noticed you paying him for his time.”

She drew a jerky breath at that, but he plunged on, temper rising.

"What. Do you think you’re doing?" He bit out, nails digging into the table. 

A thunderstorm raged in his spine.

A raging storm because his friend was doing something just a bit reprehensible, and as a paladin, bound to serve and protect, it was his _duty_ to confront wrongdoing.

Even when it was of his companions.

"It's none of your business, really." she sighed, clutching the thin silk robe to her chest and shivering in the night air.

He sputtered.

"None of my business? I remember who that is, you know. That Haillenarte man who had zero confidence and the stench of poverty. Don't tell me you're _buying him_ like he's…"

She clutched her silken robe tighter around herself.

"You're in no position to judge me." She stated flatly.

"I was trying very hard not to-until I saw you handing off a _bribe_!”

He gesticulated fruitlessly in the air, tail thrumming against the kitchen floor.

“Why couldn’t you have just done it the normal way? Find a nice person and hopefully make things work? Not sneak around late at night buying pretty elezen men’s time?!”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her face flushing dark.

"Listen! I...I'm nothing like _normal_ lalafell women" she quietly stated.

“I know _that_ more or less, but I fail to see how it’s relevant!” he railed back.

She shook a finger at him, anger now sparkling dangerously in her eyes. 

“Sit!” she proclaimed, backing him up onto a kitchen chair, and then climbing on one herself to reach his eye-level, setting down her candelabra in the process.

"Now look here! Let me tell you about _normal lalafell._ Normal lalafell love _family_ and love _making_ family even more. We love _giant_ family gatherings, laughing, eating and enjoying life _togethe_ r. That's why a great deal of lalafell women get married young. Because to them it's the natural outcome of that desire. You would need an _exceptional_ lalafell man to say that 'No, it's alright that you don't want kids because they could get targeted, and you can't be around me and my family most of the time because you're off saving the world."

  
  


His breath caught.

  
  


She clutched the robe tighter still, and curled inward on herself.

"The real, dirty truth that I _never planned on using on you but you’re just such a bastard_ is that back when I wasn't contacting you after the Sultana's poisoning, while building up the free company I met a very nice, middle aged lalafell fellow who just hadn't managed to get around to getting married. We hit it off.”

Measuredly, she threaded a clump of mussed hair behind one ear, and then leaned forward to whisper into the stillness of the night.

“It was one of the reasons I didn't want to return to battle, Alacran.

I thought it was my chance to be _normal._ "

_No._

He could feel it coming.

One of those dreadful, ugly truths that's been hidden to help your heart.

Her breath shook.

"And then you found me and told me that you couldn't save the world without me, that the Scions needed me. I broke it off with him the night I met you in Costa Del Sol and thought 'You clearly aren't destined for this type of happiness.'"

He made a strangled noise in his throat and she peered through the shadows and candle flickers.

"Oh, don't look so pained!" she cried out bitterly "It was the hand of Hyadaelyn, like as not, working through you. And thanks to you, I think I've learned that a free company can be a sort of family if you make it that way- or at the very least, I haven't been living life alone, now have I?"

He choked on a lump in his throat.

"No. You haven't. I _am sorry._ I…"

She scratched her head, and rose.

"Tea. Want some?"

"Please."

She rattled about, fetching cups and stoking the fire back up from coals to a small blaze.

He sat there dumbly, staring at his hands.

Scarred.

_I did need her. I really did. More people than Haurachefaunt would have died without her. Myself included._

A mug slammed down in front of him, smelling of flowers and chamomile.

"Now then." She continued briskly, plopping back down across from him and taking a drag out of her mug.

"So. We saved Ishgard, bit by bit. You and I were considered heroes. And I was... missing, shall we say, warmth in my bed."

It was strange to hear words like that fall from her tight lips, but she left him no room to dwell on it-hastening onwards.

"I’d given up on people of my own race, but thought perhaps, another race, another culture might have better understanding, and elezen are _so_ pretty and we were considered heroes to Ishgard- people love heroes! And I was helping plan a ball already- the perfect occasion to meet people. But it didn’t go quite as planned.”

She paused a moment to stare off into space at some vision he couldn’t grasp before shaking it off restlessly.

“...So anyway, I asked around at that party, and found out that House Haillenarte desperately needed funds. Soft smiles, flirtatious remarks and the promise of a few bags of gil, and Cravellin immediately got the idea."

"You whored him." He accused, barely able to keep his floundering emotions at bay. He clenched his hands around the mug and let the heat seep into his scales and skin until it burned.

She took a deep sip of her tea contemplatively.

"I did _not_. I offered donations, while also implying that a warm body in my bed would be most welcome. He was the one who decided they should go hand in hand, and thus one has never existed without the other."

His hands trembled, sloshing tea onto his lap.

"Tiel, in my eyes, you're one hair away from what we both escaped by the skin of our teeth" he stated blackly. 

"For Althyk's sake, you're practically buying him nightly. It's...controlling, manipulative to offer your money in that way!"

_No. Stop. You're conflating your new found interest with worry for her safety. This isn't…_

She stared up at him, something unusually raw in her eyes. It lit the room on fire.

"Tell me, Alacran, have you ever been in bed with someone quadruple the size of your body? Of course you haven't. You are amongst the _tallest men in the world._ Meanwhile, despite my exceptionally-tall-for-my-race state, I am among the shortest women."

She leaned forward, teeth bared viciously.

"Let me tell you, I may be an exceptionally strong mage, but that always matters for very little when a man's hand is the size of your _neck-_ let us say nothing of how _impaled one can be._

Even love-making can be dangerous. Any amount of control I can feasibly hold in that situation, dubious morals or no, I will _seize._ "

She wrapped the shawl back around her shoulders with a jerk and returned to her tea.

He stared at the table, awful ideas springing to mind.

_Impaled. First of all, don't picture it._

_Second of all_ …

"I… I'm sorry. I never…"

_The diagrams all seemed so gentle. But you know well that the pictures you yourself paint with words are always a step removed from the reality, the stench of life._

"Have you…. Did someone ever…"

"Did someone hurt me?" She cut in bluntly, fortifying herself with a swig of tea.

He flushed.

"Sorry. If you don't...I mean it's not my-"

She set the cup down and idly fingered the hem of her sleeve, words tumbling out of her faster and faster until the cascade enveloped them both.

"Briefly. A roegadyn, back when I was a fledgling arcanist. He was very nice...until he lost himself in the er. Throes... And then I realized just how manipulable I was in comparison to another race.... It was alright, in the end. I was alright…. But I determined that I never wanted to feel in danger again in my own bed."

His fingers clenched on a sword that wasn't there, heart thudding dully in his chest.

"I'm sorry. This...this wasn't my place to ask. I...should go."

He stood up with a sickening screech of the chair.

She looked on impartially.

He felt guilt coursing cold through his veins.

At the door he turned.

"I..still can't condone it. But I understand why he's your choice. Just… is this what you really want?"

_Because he sounds like a second choice if I ever heard one._

She kept her head turned down to her tea cup, and when she spoke, it was with all the weariness of someone who was older than they ought to be.

"Since when have I gotten precisely what I wanted, Alacran?"

He had nothing to say. Guilt burned his throat.

"Goodnight" he murmured.

Tiel stared down into the steaming mug as the xaela left with a thrash of his scaly tail.

“Besides… none of them want me without the gil anyway…” she mumbled, and wiped her eyes roughly.

The tea went cold long before she returned to her room.

  
  


-=-=-

The lalafell crashed onto her bed with a deadly thud, and then winced as her cheek mashed against a tellingly _sticky_ spot.

"I swear, I should just put down bed pads." She groaned, pulling herself back up. 

It was the work of a few minutes to change out the sheets.

“Hah. ‘Is this what you really want’...bastard” she muttered, fingering the dirty sheets.

She closed her eyes and envisioned a hundred vignettes of dark hair, elegant fingers and dulcet tones. 

Of a beautiful man, dancing with a beautiful woman who fit perfectly into his arms while her feet remained on the ground.

The silence and stillness in the room rotted around her.

“Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid nitwit” 

Somehow she didn’t know who the nitwit was that she was ranting at, until she tripped over a stray elezen-sized sock that smelt too much of foot soldier to ever pretend it belonged to a commander.

Ruefully, she rubbed her bottom and stared at her lover’s sock.

_The nitwit is me. This isn’t what I want. And I won’t ever have him._

A space of a moment passed, a flicker of tears, and then she brutally quashed them down.

_Who are you?_ called out Thordan, a judging whisper, leering on in her memories.

"...Who do I _want_ to be?” she sighed, tossing the sock in the wash-basket.

_This?_

  
  


-=-=-

Alacran threw himself through his door, guilt setting his veins on fire.

_And here I thought that liking little people fell in the realm of normal._

“....largest race on the planet…”

He fell onto his futon backwards, and covered his face with his hands.

Slowly he began to laugh between his fingers.

“I, of all the people in the world, should have known that just because people _do something_ doesn’t mean it’s right.”

He spent a long time staring at the ceiling blankly, letting the tension bleed away from his joints, before stirring to grab his ink brush.

"Turoc. Turoc would...Bound by circumstance…"

  
  


-=-=- 

The evenings continued, and Alacran ignored the late night comings and goings politely, a fissure of silence growing between him and his sworn companion.

Silent looks, reproving glances were all that passed between them after dinner was cleared away.

He kept his distance late at night, though sometimes he felt strangely tempted to nod out of his door in passing at the man in a reckless show of... _something_.

However, something kept him from that; a niggling sense that if he had to look at the man, there might be violence following behind.

  
  


-=-=-

Some of those evenings Tiel could almost close her eyes and _believe._

Believe that the person moving on top of her actually _loved_ her, that she'd wake up and he'd still be there.

Believe that when he peered down at her with searching grey eyes under the dim light of a dozen candles that he was looking at her for the sake of it, not to check if she was pleased.

And sometimes, when she really let go, she could almost _imagine_ what that life would be like, the matching outfits she'd make, the private jokes they'd have.

Dangerous.

_Don't ask too much, now._

_One hundred wishes is enough._

Gradually, she cinched in her feelings, and filled her gil pouches.

_Closer. Ever closer._

  
  


-=-=-

She woke up alone, surging up with a gasp from the pool of dreams soaked with empty memories.

Every time.

  
  


-=-=-

Breakfasts were now " _pensive_ " affairs, Alacran thought darkly over his toast one morning.

The plum jam was just as sweet as always, but the look on Tiel’s face was anything but.

Her head was halfway to the moon-it took three tries to get her to pass the butter and she poured coffee in his tea-an altogether terrible taste.

However, when he awoke from his usual after-breakfast-nap, she was sitting at his feet, drinking tea.

“Well, this is a welcome change.” he remarked carefully, sitting up.

“I… Can we have a… truce?” she asked quietly, barely looking him in the eye.

“I haven’t left despite our disagreement, now have I?” he softly encouraged.

Slowly she let out a relieved breath.

"I have it, the gil I need for Sosoyati.” she spoke reverently.

“The old free company property finally sold.”

The meaning of it slammed into him like a rampaging myotragus.

"You can pay off the debt."

_Never be afraid of walking in Ul'dah again._

She sighed softly.

“Yes, but I don’t wish to go alone. It seems ill-advised.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you.” he assured her, a measure of enthusiasm taking him by surprise.

Weakly, she smiled at him.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for calling you a bastard… I think we both got carried away.”

“Aye, seems so.” he remarked ruefully, the warmth of the morning sun melting away any rancid ice left in his heart from that night. 

_After all, we’re still friends, still us despite our differences._

  
  


-=-=-

Sosoyati’s offices proved ostentatious and terribly dark, the long stone corridors between rooms lit only by candle light and decorated only with the heavy scent of incense. 

It dulled Alacran’s mind and numbed his senses after a few minutes, which was likely the bastard’s point.

“I don’t like this place, it reminds me too much of… the place they took my family before we got on the boat.” Alacran mumbled, following behind Tiel and Sosoyati’s footman closely, hand on his sword.

She shot an interested look over her shoulder.

“Did the distribution center use the same incense, then?”

“Something close to it, just more lemony. But it just _feels_ the same, you know?”

He could just tell, the way that the whole building was under a heavy hush that was only broken by swinging doors and distant footsteps.

Every doorway they passed, he almost expected to hear the sound of babies crying as they were torn away from their mothers.

Tiel paused, and spun on one tiny heel.

“Deep breaths, Alacran.” she frowned.

Surprised, he gulped in a breath only to realize it had been a long time since the last one.

“There you go.” she smiled gently, and reached up to pat his tense sword hand.

“Let’s just pay the man and skedaddle, kay?”

“‘Kay” he breathed, the tension between his shoulder blades dissipating.

The steward cleared his throat awkwardly.

“If you two would _please_ hurry up, Ser Sosoyati is a very _busy_ man, and you are very lucky that I’m even fitting you into his schedule at _all._ ”

“Coming!” Tiel beamed sweetly at the servant, and dashed to catch up.

  
  


-=-=-

Sosoyati received them into his inner chambers with an air of general amusement.

“Why, Mistress Momono, what brings you here? Come to repay part of the debt? If you’ve brought a sizable sum, I assure you that I can in good faith find you a wonderful patron for a month or two to repay the rest of i-”

Tiel cut him off with such a wide grin that the debt collector’s eyebrows shot up, and produced two heavy-looking sacks from her voluminous robes, plopping them down on his desk with an audible _clink._

“Your _sizable sum_ comments insult me, Sosoyati. To think you’d expect me to turn up on your doorstep, my most hated place in the world and _not_ bring enough gil to prevent my having to ever return!”

The opulent lalafell stared at the sacks, fingers twitching.

Tiel smirked, and plopped down on the edge of the man’s desk.

“Count it.”

The lalafell ripped the sacks open with a silver knife, and dumped the contents out reverently.

Heavy thousand-gil coins spilt across the desk, and diamonds glittered amongst the little golden mountain.

Tiel whisked out a stack of papers from yet another hidden pocket.

“The assessments for each gemstone.” she stated cooly, handing over the papers to the man’s now eager hands.

The steward stepped in to sort the coins as his master sorted every gemstone out of the pile, referencing them with the paper.

Alacran tired of watching the two of them sort away Tiel’s riches after about ten seconds, and shifted his attention to his little companion.

She could barely restrain the widest, toothiest grin he’d ever seen, practically wriggling on the table.

His heart thundered in his scaly chest for her, for the resolution this was probably bringing her. 

He had no doubt the math was right, and in a few minutes she’d be truly free from the past.

Lalafell are never wrong about gil, after all.

_But now, will she need me to stick around as closely? When there’s no threat save for that of Ascians and Garleans?_

_Will Cravellin replace me?_

“Fourty two million, seven hundred thirty two thousand gil, precisely!” Sosoyati announced thunderously.

“By Nald’thal, I’ve never seen anyone pay off _such a sum_ in one go! You are to be congratulated, Mistress Momono.”

Tiel smiled cooly at the man.

“The best way to congratulate me might be to tell me my family’s whereabouts, seeing as they should be free under the law now.”

"I don't know where they are" said Sosoyati, eyes wide and innocent.

_Bullshite._

He watched Tiel curl her fingers into her thigh until the nails drew blood.

"And why might that be? Surely you had records of their labor, so that you might tally up how much of the debt was left when you presented _me_ with the number owed” she asked, still dangerously gentle.

Sosoyati scoffed.

“It was a _bankruptcy_ situation, my dear. One merely disposes of the assets for the highest profit possible and cuts their losses. My loss was particularly _profound,_ so I nearly jumped for joy when you asked for a number.”

Tiel bit her lip, and sat incredibly still.

“Then where was the last place they were bound that you know of?"

Sosoyati gestured vaguely. 

“To the West, Radz-at-han-way. A thousand garnet mines lie there, always on the hunt for labor.”

"Thank you" Tiel murmured, thin politeness veneering a sea of rage.

  
  


After a few double-checks of the documents to ensure all the banking was in order, Sosoyati was beaming, and even dared shake her hand, despite the load of shite he’d just dumped on her.

“It would seem I made the right decision back there- who knew, of all your family, you’d be the most reliable?!”

Alacran growled at the slight, but Tiel held him back with a soft wave.

“I thank you for your business, and pray our paths never cross again.”

“For your sake, that might be best!” laughed the man, greedily drinking in the sight of the gil piles with obvious lust.

“We’ll be going now, then.” Tiel stated firmly, meaningfully eying the man. He in turn eyed her back, then nodded.

“I’ll see you out for your own safety.”

_Hah, where was that safety a year ago?_ Alacran wondered, falling into line.

Together, in one quietly irate band, they strolled out of the inner chamber, and headed down the sumptuous corridor towards the foyer. 

Alacran drew ahead of Tiel, just in case anyone approached them along the way, hand at the ready.

And then the door to the foyer swung open with a deep creak, and a man stepped through towards the paladin.

Alacran stopped short.

“Ah, my next custo-” Sosoyati began, but Alacran barely heard him.

It was him. 

The man who had captured his parents. Who’d chained them and shipped them like cattle.

Something primal and all encompassing slammed into him and without thinking, his silver sword slipped out of its sheath.

"Alacran? What are yo-" Tiel called sweetly.

_Breast plate has chink between plate and belt._

He plunged forward in an instant as the world blurred blue, leaving only his target in focus.

The slave trader’s face swung from mildly confused to shocked as Alacran closed the gap between them instantly.

  
  


The sword went in effortlessly, as if Alacran had planned this moment his whole life.

He hadn't. 

He’d _promised_.

"ALACRAN??" Tiel called from far away.

The sword came out like he had just stuck it in a butter dish, except it was glossy red, not yellow.

The man held his stomach and dropped to his knees.

Alacran watched it pleasantly, barely a thought in mind.

The blood was dripping off his sword. That wasn't good-you have to clean the blade after it gets used. 

He knelt down on the carpet and wiped it carefully off.

Behind him, Sosoyati was yelling.

“-eep your _dog on its leash, for Nald’thal’s sake!!_ GUARDS!! _”_

The world narrowed to nothing but his heaving breaths and the images of time gone by.

_I did it, Mother._

_Are you alive? I'm sorry. I broke our promise._

  
  


Meanwhile, Tiel stood, transfixed. 

It had been a beautiful kill, relentless, precise and glorious.

Brutally efficient. 

Some quiet part of her thrilled to see the collected, well trained paladin _slip._ The mask disintegrate ever so slightly.

Never mind _why._

He was a creature terrifying in his reticence of action.

Protect. Defend. Save the world. Little else beyond, save when he found something abhorrent.

_Like you._

The words that spilled out of his mouth and pen betrayed something _else,_ on occasion. A madcap man, a bright eyed, lively existence.

Something seemed to always hold him back. 

It held him back from demanding, save when pushed.

And then, always, it cost her to meet those demands. Bitterly, dearly.

Like the vengeful dark gods that black mages hissed between their ageless teeth to in their nightmares.

Slowly, she gripped her staff and turned to the indignant Sosoyati.

_As you protect me._

“Hey, Sosoyati. My name isn’t Momono, it’s Mother" she smiled, _genuinely._

“I fail to see how that...What are you-GUARDS! No, stop-aughHhhhHH" the man screamed as she drew her staff and efficiently sliced him up with an Aero made of the desert wind.

_What am I?_

_Thordan, I wish I knew sometimes._

Swiftly, she slew the guard that was sneaking up behind her with several well-placed stones to the head, and made her way carefully over to her long-time companion, who seemed to be having some sort of emotional breakdown in the pool of blood he’d spilled.

“Alacran? We should remove the witnesses. Otherwise we’ll have another fleeing of Ul’Dah on our hands.”

He looked up at her from the puddle of blood with glassy eyes.

“I didn’t mean to do it. I just. Couldn’t stop. It was...it was _him._ ”

“Yes, yes, very elucidating, but we _have to get out of here_ " she lectured, pointing at the door.

Clumsily, he rose to his feet.

“I’m…. a warrior of light. I’m not supposed to do...revenge missions.”

He drew himself up to his full height in front of her and she suppressed a shiver as a trickle of blood ran down the outside of his breastplate.

“Be that as it may, Alacran, you have to live on-we have to save the world yet. So let’s go.”

She began to run towards the foyer, staff in hand.

Slowly, he followed behind, gradually curling his hand around the haft of his sword.

Together, they leapt through the hall door into the foyer, dodging under the spears of a pack of bodyguards that had appeared.

Alacran sliced through one spear, and deflected the second with his shield, positioning himself to dodge a blow from the third guard behind him- only for the blow to never come.

A familiar, warm presence made itself known behind his legs, and he heard the familiar sound of Stone pulverizing ribs.

“I have your back, you absolute mess.” Tiel shouted, and threw out more Stones as a thaumaturge appeared on the stairs.

He ignored the flood of warmth in his heart at that dubiously affectionate statement, and reluctantly stabbed and beheaded the two men in front of him in two elegant strokes.

More guards appeared from the side-halls, and the pair lost themselves to the familiar rhythm of battle, only stopping the onslaught once no more footsteps echoed through the halls.

“Is...that all?” Tiel panted in the silence, wiping away a trickle of blood from her jaw.

“I think...no wait. One more coming" Alacran called.

The main hall door swung open cautiously, and the footman appeared, peering carefully around the heavy door.

His face went white as he took in the dozen bodies laying in the shimmering pool of blood that was gradually coating the foyer floor.

“Who...who are you people?” he gasped, then fearfully clapped a gaunt hand over his mouth.

Alacran’s heart wrenched to see the fear on his face.

“Tiel, can we leave him?”

“How many horrific deals has he seen?” she asked flatly.

“Did he strike them?”

She stared up at him, and then acquiesced with a nod.

“You!”

The man flinched, edging further behind the door.

“Take the gil I just gave your master and run. Never tell _anyone_ what you saw here" she demanded, fingering her staff meaningfully.

The man looked at them, at the shadows and blood spilling out beneath their feet, and nodded one, brief nod.

The front door rattled.

“BRASS BLADES, OPEN UP, WE HEARD SOUNDS OF A STRUGGLE!”

“Take my hand, Alacran.” Tiel ordered serenely.

He grasped it, and gasped hard as her teleport whisked them away hand in hand.

They burst into existence in Bentbranch Meadows, and he took in only one breath before they leapt again into the aether, stumbling out into Camp Bluefog.

“And again.” she wheezed.

They flew between places so quickly that the world around him whirled blue, white and silver.

Finally they burst out into Mor Dhona, startling a few adventurers nearby.

Tiel sucked in a deep breath, reeling backwards, and covered her mouth.

“Oh _Halone,_ I’m going to be aether sick.”

“Same…” Alacran groaned, collapsing on the ground.

He watched wearily as she brought up a stomachs-worth of tea and toast in an acidic rush, stifling his own gag reflex in an effort to keep alert to his surroundings.

“Alright there?” he asked when the hacking abated.

“Getting...there” she sighed, wiping her lips with her red sleeve.

“We should go home, now that I’ve left them a false trail of teleports. But I’m afraid you’ll have to do it, I’ll probably pass out if I do it again.”

“I got you.”

He grasped her hands, and closed his eyes, mentally flitting between all the aetherytes, until he found that single _different_ crystal.

They appeared just outside the garden gate, and Tiel stumbled across the threshold.

“Easy there.” he cautioned, scooping her up before she fell.

The paladin cast about for a good place, and finally deposited her on the garden bench, plopping down next to her.

“What a _morning_ " Tiel groaned, and slumped against him “It really _is_ only morning, isn’t it? Halone preserve me, I want to go to bed already.”

Yawning from sheer exhaustion, he nodded and slumped back against her.

“Thanks for...trying to snap me out of it back there" he murmured after a weary moment.

"You've protected me so often, it was my turn to protect you." She spoke plainly, in the sort of head of nursing ward tone that brooked no arguments.

He cracked a sorry grin.

_Despite everything, I still have her here. This kind of devotion is…_

"More than I deserve…"

"Nonsense!" She cheerfully stated, slapping him on the knee. A trickle of blood rolled down her arm.

"Oh bother." 

Carefully, she wiped it away with such an intense focus that he had to laugh.

_It's enough. This, here. Nothing more._

“Let me see.” he ordered, in his best head of nursing ward approximation.

She scoffed as she rolled up her sleeve.

“Exactly who’s the healer here?”

“Exactly who just used up all their mana killing people and teleporting around?” he retorted, running a thumb along the shallow gash on his upper arm. 

“Looks like kunai.”

“Stellar analysis, Ser Head Nurse.” she sneered playfully.

“Oh I’ll Head Nurse _you._ ” he slung back, and pulled out a handkerchief.

“One mustn’t bind a wound without clea-eeeEEE” she squealed as he pulled her across his lap and lifted her arm up.

“What are you-”

He smirked down at her, thumbed the pooling blood away and then _licked_ his way along the gash carefully, catching every distressingly jagged edge of the cut with his blue tongue. 

_Seriously? Sharpen your kunai, people._

Tiel wriggled in his lap like a landed fish.

“This is _highly_ unprofessional healing” she squawked ferociously, flushing deeply.

He lifted his head grandly, ignoring her, and proceeded to bind her small arm with the massive handkerchief as neatly as he could, then viewed his handiwork with satisfaction. 

_This is what I should be doing, taking care of my companions. Nothing else._

“All done, ma’am.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.

“I cannot _believe_ you licked my wounds.”

“It’s disinfectant.”

“ _Mild disinfectant._ ”

Alacran clapped a hand to his chest and smiled a rare smile wide enough to crinkle his eyes.

“Are you telling me that you wouldn’t do the same, under the circumstances?”

She flushed even more, and looked away.

“I’d...formulate some sort of disinfectant on my own, seeing as I know alchemy…” she muttered.

“And that’s why you’re the healer.” he sighed, lifting her up and setting her down in the grass.

“Lunch, Mistress Healer?”

“Lunch.”

_All I need._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to hate me my muse (heh) sure did and i fed off of his suffering for eons.  
> i promise things get better.  
> eventually.


	10. Obsession: Half Measures to Happiness at Half-Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> instead of editing this i learned how to sew for a couple weeks instead. tune in next time when the next chapter is inevitably delayed due to me taking up an interest in fresh water fishing or something .  
> 

“Lunch will have to wait...” Tiel sighed, staring over her shoulder in the mirror.

Somehow, the back of her robes had gaped open during her slaughter spree without her noticing, and cold, drying blood was caked down her back.

Ruefully, she shuffled her feet only to notice a few bits of gore stuck to her legs as well.

“Yep. Bath time” she told herself firmly, slipping the robe back on.

The girl in her mirror looked back tiredly as she straightened the sleeves out.

“All that work, all those years, and you ended up killing him anyway.” she chided the drooping figure.

“Some just hero I am.”

But mirrors don’t reply, and perhaps that is the charm of them.

-=-=-

“I’m just hopping in the bath! Could you put the pot of stew on the front of the stove while I wash?” Tiel called through Alacran’s door.

“Sure thing” he yelled back, while hopping around on one foot, trying to unbuckle a blood-soaked greave.

“Come ooon...” he grunted, fingers slipping for the thousandth time.

“Aha! Got you...oh Althyk” 

He crashed onto the floor in a mess of half-undone armor.

“I...really need a squire or something...” he groaned up at the ceiling.

_And a spare moment to reflect._

But those are few and far between in a household that barely sleeps.

-=-=-

Tiel skipped up the stairs to the second floor, and whisked herself into the unofficial “change room” she’d built for their _extensive_ bath tub collection.

The rigors of battle tended to make a body filthy.

“Coming in!” she called as she slipped through the door and out of the dirty robe.

“Oh hi-oh _HALONE,_ WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” Rolanberry screeched, rising to her feet with a massive tidal wave in the middle of the eastern-style bathtub.

Tiel froze sheepishly as she shut the door behind her.

“I uh… I paid off my debts, and it all went south?” She ventured carefully.

Rolan rolled her worried eyes up and down Tiel's pudgy frame.

“I’ll _say!_ Are you hurt? I only know a little conjury but I can try-”

Tiel shook her head immediately.

“No, no, I’m fine! It’s uh. Everyone else’s.”

Rolan narrowed her shrewd eyes forebodingly.

“How _many_ everyone else's?”

"Uh, about….a dozen?”

Rolan crossed her arms, and managed to look intimidating despite being stark naked in the middle of a massive bathtub.

“Tell me you didn’t kill a dozen people all alone." she demanded.

Tiel cringed, crossing over to the shower nearby.

“I wasn’t alone…” she sighed, picking up a bar of soap.

“Uhuh. Did you take your precious paladin?” Rolan queried while vaulting out of the tub with a splash.

“...yes?” Tiel muttered.

“ _Listen._ ” the woman groaned, coming up behind Tiel and snatching the soap from her hand.

“Hey! My soap- ahHH that ticklesss...” Tiel hissed.

“Shush.” Rolan commanded, scrubbing the lalafell’s tiny back until the suds turned pink with loosening blood clots.

As she scrubbed, the hyur leaned in and firmly spoke.

“You don’t need to just depend on him alone. I get that you two are like...Warriors of Light, but Halone, I can at least protect you in a pinch as well! What’s the point of having me around if you don’t let me help with the dirty work?”

Tiel sighed “I didn’t want to-”

“Didn’t want to _what?_ ”

“...I..impose.”

“You’re our _sodding leader!_ ” Rolan hissed, twapping the lalafell between her shoulder blades with the soap.

“But… it wasn’t your business to conclude. It was mine!” Tiel protested, spinning around to let her do the front.

Rolan scrubbed a little harder, just to personally torment her.

“Your business is _my_ business, O Great Leader. You picked us up off of the streets of Limsa, so I reckon I owe you a little fealty.”

“That’s!” Tiel began frantically.

“Reeeally logical?” Rolan smirked.

“Noo…?” the lalafell ventured, shrinking away.

Rolan groaned, and brandished the cake of soap in front of the lalafell’s mouth.

“Get whatever dumb thing you have on your mind out or I’ll stuff your gob with soap.”

Tiel shuffled her now goreless feet sheepishly.

“I’m afraid it’s quite a terrible reason.”

“Soap. Mouth. C’mon _Mother_.”

Mother caved in the face of lye, as do all naughty children the world over.

"Fine! I don’t…don’t think it’s right to ask people I've resented having the responsibility of to risk their lives for me!" she cried out and bowed her head in remorse.

The hyur snorted.

"That's your terrible confession? I resent you when you leave your shite all over the place, and ruin my concentration during crafting with dirty jokes! But whenever I come to you for help on something, you offer your hand willingly!"

"That's my duty…" Tiel sighed, pinching the space between her brows tiredly.

Rolan squeezed the soap tightly and sputtered.

"Your duty is to let everyone _take and take?_ Nobody can survive _that_! I… I definitely didn't."

They locked weary eyes for a long moment, then Rolan rocked back onto her heels to survey her soapy handiwork and sighed.

“Look. He’s not the only one you can depend on. Be a little more greedy. Besides, it's not fair to him to be the only one depended on. He's got shite to write, yeah?” 

The hyur paused to look around the room, then whispered carefully.

“Don't bother him so much… cause I wanna read his stuff too.”

Tiel giggled, taken off guard.

“A secret fan, huh?”

Rolan flushed.

“I just...I like elezen romances, ok?”

“Because you’re replacing the male lead with Estinien in your head?”

“AAAAAAH!!! No!” the woman shrieked.

Tiel smirked, folding her arms.

“Uhuh.”

Rolan clicked her tongue, then thrust the soap at her.

"Anyway, point is Mother, if you come home dead, I will squat and drop a log on your corpse to show you how pissed off I am that you kicked the bucket without me there."

The lalafell narrowed her eyes.

"Please don't, that will mess up the burial rites _so much_."

"News flash! You'd be _dead_ so you couldn't stop me! So _call us up._ "

Tiel cocked her head to the side.

“Just like that?” 

Rolan nodded severely.

“Just like that. Now I’m starving, so I’m gonna get lunch. You rinse off!”

“Which one of us is the mother here, I wonder?” Tiel smiled wryly, stepping under the spray of the shower.

“You’re just playing at mother! Play some leader!” Rolan called over her shoulder as she slung on a sun dress with wild abandon.

“Yes, _mother._ ” Tiel yelled in the boisterous woman’s wake.

_Play the leader, huh._

Slowly the lalafell climbed up into the tub with a groan, and lay back in the water.

_I’ll relax for just a moment. In celebration._

Slowly, her grey eyes drifted shut as her sore muscles uncoiled.

Visions spun across the back of her eyelids, of the whir and thud of stones crushing bone, of the blood spray in the light of candles.

Of a broad back plunging towards a hyur.

Of a sword sliding in and out of a belly.

Of the look of fresh blood spattering on the floor.

And of how _his_ teeth glinted in the candlelight as primal instincts set his blood on fire.

A warm heat suddenly seared her abdomen, and shocked, she knifed in the water, thrashing.

Water entered her mouth and nose as her head pushed below the surface. Panicked, she tried to upright herself, only to dive in the wrong direction.

_I am not dying to arousal in a bathtub._

After a few more harrowing moments, she finally made her way to the surface. She latched on to the tub edge, and held on for dear life, spitting the vaguely soap-flavored water onto the floor.

_What...what in the seven hells was that._

"I'll… I'll figure that out later" she stuttered to the empty room.

-=-=-

Alacran was certain the soup was hot enough by now, but Tiel had yet to appear, so he was yet again on the hunt for the elusive plum jam.

Footsteps lightly sprung into the room behind him, and the scent of berry soap hit his nose.

"Rolan." he grunted.

"Is lunch ready?" the hyur asked, leaning over the pot of soup with an appreciative sniff.

"Yep, was just waiting for your glorious leader to make her appearance."

"Hmm, I think she'll be a bit. Let's start without her!"

Before he knew it, he was seated at the table, dipping into angler stew with hunks of bread.

"Hey, Alacran?" Rolan asked, licking the creamy broth off her fingers with all the grace of a street rat.

"Yeah?"

"Don't let her rely on you alone." 

He stilled in his rickety chair.

"Did she...talk?"

_About how I freaked out? Had to be dragged along?_

Rolan raised a brow.

“About you? Nahh, I was telling her she needs to use us company members more.”

Alacran considered her thin form thoughtfully.

All bony angles and slight muscles. 

_Rely on you?_

“What do you mean?’ he settled on, bristling in anticipation.

The woman opened her mouth, only for the door chimes to begin their usual cacophony.

Vi-deo dashed in, dragging Lisa by the wrist.

“Lunch ready? Missus Lisa here insists she can’t do a single round more of target practice without something in her tiny belly.”

“C’mon in!” Rolan cheerily called, waving the pair over.

“I was just about to tell mister paladin over here-” she gestured at Alacran with her hunk of bread “-to let us take over protection duty sometimes.”

_Oh._ _Oh_ _._

Video paused, mid-hefting Lisa up onto a chair.

“Ah yeah. Thought we'd do primal hunting with her. Want to test my aim with her healing backing me up."

_Vi-deo_ _is_ _a dab shot._

_But._

"I made a vow." He quietly stated, setting his spoon down.

_And it’s far too dangerous to leave her to her own devices._

The table silenced.

Rolan stared him down shrewdly.

“You don’t need to abide by it for the mundane, for the private business. Saving the world? Sure. Doing her dirty deeds? Not so much. Let us take on that burden.”

His stomach suddenly revolted against the warmed-over fish stew.

_Dirty deeds._

_Blood on your hands._

Some aged decree hissed against his horns, crawling up through the years to ensorcell his mind.

_Mustn’t...musn’t use… isn’t right._

His stomach lurched, and he rose to his feet with a clatter.

“I-”

“Ooo, I smell fish!”

He stopped, frozen in place by the appearance of the woman of the hour, wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe and sporting a towel-turban that added a good few hands' breadths to her height.

“Oh good, you started without me!” she beamed, hopping up onto a chair to spoon herself a bowl, only to pause as all eyes landed on her expectantly.

“Really?” she laughed, putting down the ladle to plant her hands on her fluff-swaddled hips.

“I’m not making such a big decision after the space of _one bath._ ”

The table let out a groan.

“Yes, _Mother._ ”

Alacran settled back down in his chair, discomfited.

-=-=-

Lunch passed without further discussion of the morning that had consumed them so entirely, neither Alacran nor Tiel exchanging more than an occasional look and a gentle “Pass the butter.”

As the pair cleaned up-the rest of the members drifting away on errands as they were wont to do- Tiel suddenly dropped a knife with a ringing clang.

“I got it.” Alacran stated gruffly, chasing it as it spun under the table.

She was blinking off into the distance when he pressed the blade into her hand.

“Hydaelyn to Tiel??” he queried.

"I'm… I can write letters. Letters, Alacran!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes? I know you can write?"

"No, no, I can write my _friends._ " She gasped out, clutching the knife. 

"We did it! I did it!" 

Alacran considered her doubtfully, for she sounded a touch mad.

But there was joy spilling out of her tiny face.

"Can I borrow paper?"

"Absolutely." he smiled.

-=-=-

His room was no longer covered in rejected pages, but his wastebasket was still piled high with rejected pages of lewd writings.

"Thank you!" Tiel sighed as he handed her a stack of paper, and then a brush.

"Oh! I don't know how to use this." 

"No?"

"I always use a quill!"

"Disgusting" he moaned, taking it back.

She looked around, and then plopped down on the ground in front of him.

"Right here?" he sighed, squatting down beside her.

"I can't wait a moment longer!" She chirruped.

He watched as she pulled out a quill and ink pot from her mysterious pockets and began to write with a firm scrawl.

Her damp golden hair cascaded off of her shoulders as she bent low over the paper.

Bemusedly, he noted that at its roots, a darker color was growing up.

"Is your hair….dyed?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, for ages now. Ever since I fled Ul'dah… so about eight years now? Eight years of being a blonde. Except for the stint where I went black!"

_I never knew._

_Well, there's a lot of things I never knew, lately._

"What color is it really?" he wondered, before realizing he'd said it aloud.

Tiel popped her head up happily.

"Green! A bit unusual… mother always called me her little cactus-all green and prickly!"

It sprung into his mind unbidden-an image of a grumpy, smaller Tiel, learning her letters with little green braids lying over her shoulders.

_Cute._

"Right! That's Jejewu done, next up, Totoru!" Tiel cheered, rapidly folding up the first letter into an envelope shape.

"That sounds...familiar…" Alacran muttered.

"Huh? Well, they are very common names."

"Right…" he sighed.

-=-=-

_My dearest larkspur-how long has it been since I've been able to write that, Totoru?_

_If you recall that nickname, then I expect you know who's writing you._

_It has been a very long time, my friend._

_Has your husband been kind? You doubted him during your engagement, I remember._

_Do you have children? I have not inquired, for I did not wish to know during my exile._

_For an exile it has been, Totoru._

_I expect you do not know all the details, save that my father’s company went bankrupt, and that he, my brother and I all vanished._

_My father and brother were lost to slave traders, but I escaped them and fled beyond the desert, across the ocean to Limsa Lominsa._

_So much has happened since then-I have learned so many things beyond our child-world of folk songs, painting and embroidery, of calculations and engagements._

_I have not married- I know that will be the first thing out of your mouth, you scoundrel-, for circumstances are difficult, but I am surrounded by lovely people. I’ve eked out my own sort of adventurer-family, for I am somehow a free company master! And I have learned healing arts of all sorts these past nine years- I daresay I’m a bit of an expert, though my mind can be just as whirl-a-gig as in the past when I’m not focused!_

_I wish to see you, for a letter could not convey the half of what I have to tell you._

_Please tell me we are still friends, for the thought of a tea party with you has kept me going all these years of hiding from Sosoyati._

_He is perished, I heard, and thus I can finally write you in full freedom, for the records of my family’s debt are apparently lost to this world._

_Yours forevermore:_

_Momono Mono_

  
  
  


Totoru put down the letter, hands shaking.

Her eyes blurred with tears a moment, and she fumbled for a handkerchief in her apron pockets, snorting when she found her oldest one at the bottom. 

Gently she drew it out and eyed the aged embroidery. The purple had almost faded from the hyacinth pattern after nine years, but the strength of the stitches still held firm.

"You were always the better at stitching" she murmured ruefully, before blowing her nose with a huge honk.

Snot disposed of, she hastily whisked out her inkwell, and began to pen a response.

_Hello Hydrangea!_

_I'm going to kill you. Well, first let's have tea so you can tell me_ _everything_ _… and then I'll kill you._

_As for my life: My husband has died! Hip-hip-hurrah, the widow's life for me!_

_Oh don't look dismayed, I can see the furrow now, he was a bastard just as I feared, but he caught crotch rot off of a whore-his fault-and it went to his head. I thanked her for it, and now we're friends!_

_I can see_ _that_ _furrow as well, but don't worry, she's lovely and it was completely inadvertent._

_We live together merrily and I need only wear violet a single month more-a revolting tradition, for it suits my complexion_ _not at all_ _. Whoever decided that particular custom, I will have_ _words_ _with._

_The old bastard did leave me a son, but you shan't be able to coo over him-he is already in boarding school._

_Come for tea, two days time? You must meet Susula and then we three may commiserate to our heart’s content!_

_Yours ever:_

_Totoru Toru_

-=-=-

Alacran went to bed early that night, though he tossed and turned until midnight, before blessedly slipping into the current of dreams.

Dreams of pleasant times betook him along the way-of sandy morning tea and gruff guffaws.

The shimmering starlight seen from ancient bedrolls dragged him along, deeper still.

Deeper, darker until the world went blue and shaky around him.

Until he saw terror in his target’s eyes as he charged forward. 

Until he got so close he could see his own bared teeth reflecting in the cowering man’s glassy eyes as the accursed echo whispered sweet, wordless directions.

_Kill. Just there, that opening. Rend._

He burst awake in a sweat, throat dry, blood pulsing in his veins like lava.

The xaela cast about the spinning room wildly, but no foe met his eyes, only his still bloodied armor, shining dully in the corner of the room.

Gradually, he laid back down as his heart settled.

His handkerchief was neatly folded on his pillow in the morning, and a stick of unfamiliar incense was burning low in the coals of his hearth.

Slowly he dressed, choosing the woad chest and breeches for once, smiling at the familiar scent of old fur and leather, relishing the not-plate-ness of it.

The stained armor remained in the corner the next day as well.

-=-=-

Tiel was _preparing,_ for evidently a tea party was such an occasion that it required both a new snow-white tunic, matching sarouel, and for her hair to be piled high in two neat golden buns.

Alacran wrinkled his nose from the doorway.

"You look strange in pants."

She shot him a look over her shoulder as she fastened her large golden earrings.

"It's traditional, even though I prefer the breeziness and cut of skirts. Think of it like...putting on your finest armor for guard duty."

“Ah.”

He considered her slight form, swathed in creamy white. The billowing pants swallowed her hips wholly, hiding her figure behind swathes of silk. 

_A pity._

“Will you be joining your high Ul’Dahn society again?” he asked, leaning against the door frame in an attempt to be casual.

She paused mid-spraying perfume on the back of her sloped neck.

“I… I’m not sure. I haven't any nobility to my name, for my family's claim to society was only wealth, being nouveau rich. My fiance was meant to smooth that particular wrinkle out...but.”

He stared at her.

_Fiance. She had more of a past life than me._

Visions of a rich old lalafell ala Gegereju came to mind, and he shuddered internally.

_At least that elezen is under fourty summers. Probably._

Tiel set the bottle down decisively and bent over her hand mirror to line her eyes with kohl.

“Anyway, that’s old history. Would you hand me my babouches, please?"

Alacran cast about the room, looking for whatever a babouche might be. A flower? No, there were only carnations on the side table. 

(Even he knew what a carnation was.)

Maybe it was a hat? He eyed the small shelf of hats next to her door.

That black hat was called a beret, if he recalled… what about the red one?

Tiel snickered, never even lifting her head.

"The pointy shoes."

"Ah. These paragons of fashion." 

He lifted the tiny curled-toe boots aloft, and eyed her consideringly.

"Shall I play at manservant, seeing as you’re engaged?"

She smiled weakly, a curl at the edges of her glossy lips.

"You've already displayed horrendous acts when you play nurse, I shudder to think what should happen with you as a servant."

"Ah, but the difference between nursing and servanthood is that one I've never done before, and the other I at least made an oath to protect and _serve_ " he jibed back, drawing closer.

Tiel put down the kohl, her eyes half rimmed in black.

"To the Sultana, yes. Not I." she stated carefully, extending a small hand for the boots.

"Not in as many words, no." He smirked, sinking to his knees with a ripple of fur.

She backed up into the table at the sight of it and gripped its ornate edge tightly.

"Oh _do_ come off it, give them over?"

"The Sultansworn always help each other buckle up armor before battle" he blandly responded, while simultaneously wondering why he'd decided to torment her thus.

Brilliant ire flashed in her grey eyes, and inwardly he laughed.

_That's why._

"I am scarcely a sweaty paladin in some...some barracks!" She sputtered, digging her fingernails into the table.

He paused to run a languid eye up and down her tense little form.

"No. You're not. You bathe too often to be one" he chuckled.

For some reason, she flushed at that.

"G...give me the babouches."

"No, this is what you get for using paladin metaphors. It stokes our pride."

He reached out an expectant, demanding hand towards her.

A slow moment passed as they locked eyes and glared eachother down. She clearly was doing her level best to be regal and distantly authoritative, but in the face of impassive patience, none can truly stand forever.

Finally she rolled her eyes.

"Alright, nitwit. Get on with it!" she exclaimed, thrusting a small foot into his palm.

Something in him _preened_ , despite her tone.

_Victory._

He dragged a scaly thumb over the top of her brown foot, forcing the toes to point downwards as he drew the boot up to slide over them...only to pause.

"You've got bunions."

_Like an old paladin._

"Twelve bells on your feet a day, traipsing around the world and the wards will do that..." she sighed, leaning deep against the table.

He eyed them ruefully all the more.

_Twelve bells a day, healing me in the ass-end of Dravania._

"You never complained…" he mused.

"Why would I? It's part of my job." she stated blandly.

“Hm.”

Tiel swallowed as he stared at the tiny protrusions for _far_ too long.

"Relax, it's perfectly natural. I'm getting on in years."

His shoulder twitched.

"Are not..." he muttered, finally sliding the babouche on.

The lalafell heaved a sigh, pinching the tight spot between her brows.

"I'm _twenty six summers,_ Alacran; near twenty seven. An old maid, by society's reckoning. Halone, I've _been_ an old maid six summers already."

She offered him the other foot, this one spattered with tiny white scars, and bearing the same painful-looking protrusion to match its pair.

"Still young" he offered as he slid the other shoe on carefully, coaxing it around the lump.

"Some die by fifty." she whispered above his head.

He closed his eyes, stilled his hands and saw all the people who had died in front of him, from callow foot soldiers pierced through with arrows to Haurchefant with his blood-stained lips.

"They do..." he admitted thickly "...They do, but…"

_I won't let you._

She cut in smoothly.

"But nothing. Time runs out for us all, and I want to know...what I'm doing with mine."

_Who you're doing, too_ he thought unkindly, and set down her foot silently.

"Well done, good and faithful servant!" Tiel laughed, and dragged a fingernail across his forehead.

He froze at the gentle scratch, blinking upward in bewilderment.

"There was a hair stuck on your scales" she offered by way of explanation, then withdrew her familiar red spectacles from a hidden pocket.

"Want to put these on too?" she laughed.

He eyed them thoughtfully. 

She froze.

"On second thought, perhaps not."

She slid them up her nose, and then peered across the room at the chronometer.

“Oh bother, I have to go!” 

Quickly, she snatched up a bottle from the table, pocketed it, and sprinted past him before he knew it.

“Have...a good party?” he called.

She spun in the doorway to look back.

"Thank you!”

She paused a moment more.

“Thank you for, well, everything...and I'm sorry for all of it too" she whispered, then left like a white wraith banished by the afternoon sun.

He stayed in the empty room on his knees for a long moment.

"Sorry for all of it…" he murmured quietly to the hats and clenched his empty sword hand reflexively.

_Am I sorry?_ He wondered, slowly standing.

-=-=-

“I’m home, properly!” Tiel whispered gleefully, skipping through the Gate of The Sultana.

Every familiar, sand-worn building she eyed with fresh appreciation.

“Hello, you beautiful city of sin.”

Slowly, she walked through the city core, enjoying the feeling of being hat-less, cowl free, and _unafraid_.

A left turn, down a familiar avenue, dappled with palm trees and edged with colorful tiles.

Then a right at the baobab, past the lemon-colored house with the sea-glass windows…

“This should be it” she breathed tightly, eying the unfamiliar sandstone walls.

The doors were cedar, and carved with glaring serpents.

_Seven knocks, two, pause, four, pause, one._

It came easily back, the ceremonies of childhood, of midnight secrets.

The door cracked open, and one dark green eye peered through.

“Gil for your thoughts?” Tiel smiled, curtseying in the street.

The door swung open with a crash, and a short lalafell sprung forward and leapt into Tiel’s arms.

“Good to see you too, Totoru” Tiel laughed into her friend’s hair happily.

Totoru drew back after several bone-crushing moments and looked her up and down.

“You dyed your hair!”

“A necessary disguise, but I’ve grown fond of it.”

"Oh, and you stink of oranges! But then, you always did!" Totoru giggled blissfully, dragging her inside.

“I still make my own perfume, Totoru. That much hasn’t changed” Tiel laughed as she stumbled along behind her indomitable friend.

"Oh, and look at you! All dressed up! Finally!" Totoru exclaimed once they were in the warm light of the courtyard.

Tiel shifted uncomfortably in the blinding sunlight.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Hah! I remember the days where I had to chase you around our room with any beaded tunic before you would put it on!"

Tiel laughed sheepishly.

"It turns out if you make the tunic yourself, it feels much more comfortable, fits a far sight better-oh, and!"

She pulled a little bottle out of nowhere and dangled it in front of Totoru gleefully.

" _Pockets._ "

She dropped the bottle into Totoru’s hands and watched as the woman uncorked it, and sighed with bliss.

“Like liquid sunshine. I don’t know how you do it. I ran out of my last bottle years ago.”

"If you would take more than the most rudimentary alchemy classes, you too could decant perfume with the best of us."

Totoru laughed heartily.

"And where is the artistry in _that_? No, I shall stick to my paints. Do come in!" 

She beckoned her deeper into the courtyard with a giddy wave.

A low table was set there amongst colorful flower beds, and a golden-haired lalafell rose from her repose on a blue divan to meet the pair.

“Oh Menphina, you didn’t tell me she was _pretty_!!” she burst out, rushing forward to clasp Tiel’s hands.

“Only by merit of my clothes and excellent hairdresser!” Tiel laughed, accepting the hand clasp.

“I’m Susula! And that’s not all true! You’ve lovely large eyes! Very tall though…”

“Elegantly so, now that I’ve grown into it” Tiel smiled, and let Susula drag her to the table for tea in a clatter of bangles.

Totoru dispensed tea, baklava and sesame cookies with her usual aplomb, and before Tiel knew it, the atmosphere had relaxed into the languid ease of days gone by.

At last, she ventured a question.

"How is Jejewu? I'd hoped she could make it, but there was no response to my letter."

"She died." Totoru sighed, dragging a cookie through cream.

"Child birth." Susula shuddered.

"The alchemists were out of coagulants and her blood was so _thin_." Totoru muttered, thrusting the cookie in her mouth in one go.

"Ah.." Tiel sighed, lifting her tea cup.

"Then, to the dead, and to the yet living! Serefe!"

“Serefe.”

“Serefe!!”

They clinked cups with a light chime and tossed back the thick tea with the ease of long practice.

Tiel stared into the bottom of her emptied glass.

_Child birth. If I’d studied a little more, gotten a little richer sooner…_

_But there’s little sense in dwelling on what could have been, of the lives one could have saved with maybes. Only what can be done presently._

She rose her head out of the ocean of thought to see Totoru thoughtfully staring her down with her guarded emerald eyes.

“Do tell us _everything_ that has transpired, would you?” Totoru begged, teeth a-glint at the promise of a wild tale.

So Tiel did, carefully scraping away any truly horrific events, and hiding the most recent blood on her hands beneath a veneer of sweet sentiment, until words bled dry and history ran out.

_Lying always seems standard issue in this city_ she thought bitterly.

_And yet._

The silence was heavy at the end, and pity swam in the gathering’s eyes.

_And yet there is warmth._

Susula was the first to break the silence, grasping her hand excitedly.

"Ehh!! Seriously! What a story! I can't imagine living like that, with so many adopted kids! And healing… saving the world.. how do you manage??!! I should go _mad_ with it!"

Totoru stirred to stroke her other hand gently.

“Don't you ever wish to _settle_? Must you do this forever?”

Tiel wryly grinned.

"Trust me, I'm dying for a man to spill a bucket of seed in me and have me pop out a dozen children of my own blood, but...circumstances make that difficult."

Totoru clucked her tongue knowingly.

"Still, surely the life of an adventurer can only be so long before the joints go, moreso with every revival and injury?"

Tiel groaned, and rolled her neck ruefully.

"I… I'll retire someday, but so far, so good. And it's not as if I hate healing people- on the contrary, I love it...only…"

"Only?" Totoru murmured, pressing against her side.

"Only… There's someone I can't leave to their own devices, and because of it I end up so very far from home so often that I feel guilty for enjoying new places while everyone else is left at home... I feel pulled a dozen directions at once..." Tiel sighed, bowing her head to the table.

Totoru and Susula shot meaningful glances at each other over her bowed form.

“Is it a fellow!?” Susula gasped, merriment twinkling in her eyes.

“Yes...but not like _that!_ ” Tiel smiled firmly.

_Arousal in bathtubs aside._

Totoru straightened her spine with all the matronly aplomb that society life affords oneself.

“Shall I probe about for someone _like that_? Even your old fiancee is back on the market these days...”

Tiel groaned, a vision of the ponderous man flickering from her distant memories.

“No. I’ve got, well, a lover as it were, and considering the circumstances I can afford no more.”

Susula smirked with all the glee of a filthy gossip-monger.

“A _lover,_ is it? Perhaps you might persuade him to _buy the stock_ as it were-”

“Susula. Society isn't your whore-house.” Totoru cut in calmly.

“Oh phooey, you’re no fun!” the woman groaned, flopping back into her cushion grumpily.

“ _Susula.”_ Totoru sighed and flicked her on the forehead.

Tiel ignored them both.

“I… I’m just trying to find my own way. Figure out how to feel like I’ve done _something right._ Besides you know, saving the world a bit.”   
  


Totoru smiled knowingly, and settled in closer.

“I felt the same way after he died, leaving me with just one child… but really, I managed to do well living on investments and paintings, and with Susula, I never want for noise around the house.”

“Hey!” Susula yelped from her prone position.

Totoru shrugged, her bobbed hair brushing slim shoulders.

“Would you have me lie, pet?”

Tiel smiled ruefully.

_Be content with your lot, huh? We all absorbed the golden rule, didn’t we..._

Totoru leaned into Tiel's shoulder.

“If ever you wish to return to Ul’Dah for good, I will aid you. There’s little I would love more than to see you plague elegant dinner parties again by gleefully recounting the manifold uses of chickweed. However, if not, I understand. For a life of relative solitude has its...charms."

The elegant matron flicked a sideways glance at Susula and smiled into her tea cup.

Susula, for her part was ignoring her mistress, instead choosing to stare at Tiel’s nails.

“Oh! Such a pity…” she sighed.

Carefully, Tiel placed her hands in her lap, out of sight.

“My hands need be useful, I’m afraid. Too long, and it catches skin.” she stated firmly, guessing the girl’s meaning immediately.

“Don't you feel less pretty that way? Let me do them!” Susla coaxed, shooting upwards eagerly.

“I can’t, really, for what if the gems break off in a wound? Think of my patients, please."

“Then at least some shellac, just a thin coat. Pleease? Consider it a chance to let me practice my craft!” Susula coaxed, reaching for her hands.

Totoru laughed crisply around a mouthful of fig.

“You shan’t escape her, her drive for beautification is intense.”

“You don’t need to put away _everything_ for the sake of savior-hood, surely!” Susula coaxed, rubbing one delicate thumb over the edge of a bitten-down nail meaningfully. 

Tiel stared the flibbertigibbet down.

Susula stared right back, fluttering her kohl-lined eyelids rapidly, until the white mage had to cave, laughing.

“Very well! But nothing toxic, nothing that sloughs. I’m an alchemist, I will _know._ ”

“You always were everything.” Totoru mourned from behind.

-=-=-

The afternoon melted away into lengthening shadows from then on, and as the sun slipped below the horizon, Tiel arose from her lax repose on Totoru’s lap, filled with tea and bearing glittering rose-pink nails.

"I feel like I've been exhumed from a grave" she sighed blissfully, taking in the supper-scents drifting on the air.

“Well, it certainly has felt like you’re back from one, ever since your letter” Totoru laughed, straightening her lavender tunic.

Tiel nodded, then shot a glance at the heavy sun.

“Oh! I really must be going. The children need their dinners.”

“Very taxing of them!” Totoru laughed, extending a hand.

“I’ll escort you out. Susu, send for the servants to clean up.”

The pair of women hooked arms, and lazily padded through the garden, wending their way to the gate.

“It’s been marvelous, Larkspur.” Tiel sighed into her friend’s shoulder.

“I really can’t thank you enough for welcoming me back, despite how I’ve changed.”

“You haven’t changed at all, darling.” Totoru smiled, helping her over a rock.

Tiel furrowed her brow.

“But I have. I’ve become a healer, an adoptive mother...and I have far more blood on my hands than I saw fit to regale you with.”

Totoru sniffed.

“Please, I knew that from the moment you walked in.”

She took the healer’s wrist, and flipped it palm-side up.

A silver scar bisected the forearm, the edges knotty and ugly.

Totoru dragged a thin finger across it sweetly, tracing the rivulet.

“Not just whatever made this. You’ve always had the scent of death hanging about you.”

Tiel blinked twice.

“Have I?”

Totoru scoffed.

“Remember the moon you spent mixing poisons? For personal interest? Or how you’d climb on the school roof to peer at executions in the square through a telescope?”

Tiel flushed dark.

“You _knew?_ ”

“Oh yes. No word of a lie, I watched your every move. You were… the most interesting thing in school.” Totoru paused to snicker, her eyes distant.

“My favorite memory is when that maid went into labor mid-afternoon, and instead of sending her home, you pulled her _into our room_ and summoned a midwife.”

“It seemed the wisest course of action! What if someone mugged her along the way?” Tiel protested eagerly.

“Fine words from the one who enthusiastically watched every grisly second of the ordeal eagerly, and _took notes as she screamed._ ”

Tiel winced.

“My bedside manner was not at all developed at the ripe young age of fourteen...”

“Fair enough.” Totoru sighed fondly, leaning against a tree.

Tiel eyed her thoughtfully, then stepped under the shade with her.

“So we’re speaking without lies now?” she asked, leaning in close.

“Yes.” Totoru looked her boldly in the eyes, _waiting._

“Then tell me, what are you hiding? Your letters are always cheerful when you’re lying.” Tiel demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

Totoru blinked once, then smirked.

“Remember the moon you spent mixing poisons?”

“Yes, we establishe-”

“It was very inspirational.” 

The words hung in the sandy air, glistening red.

Totoru stared the white mage down, challengingly.

“Crotch rot was simply coincidental, it saved me the trouble. And it meant I met her.”

Tiel, for her part fingered a staff that wasn’t there and then heaved a sigh.

“Then we both smell, don’t we.”

“We do indeed!" her friend laughed.

_What a city._

“Call me if ever you need a healer, a weaver...or a midwife.” Tiel offered at last.

Totoru snorted, unlady-like when left alone.

“Fat chance for me. I intend to paint myself into a grave.”

“For _Susu._ ”

Totoru covered her mouth.

“I’m afraid that’s going to be a fat chance as well, seeing as I haven't a prick" she admitted, eyes dancing.

Tiel snorted in return.

“Perhaps you can make one out of paint brushes.”

Her friend seized with laughter, and then straightened up, brushing bark flakes from her pantaloons.

“You were on your way out?”

"Very much so!"

They parted with a kiss to each cheek, and the doors closed with a creak that was to become a familiar parting statement.

Slowly, Tiel wound her way through the streets, picking up vegetables from stands as she went.

“Thank ye ever so much, Missus” one aged tomato-seller crooned, giving her obeisance commonly due those with millions to their name of a cluster of titles.

“You’re very welcome” she smiled, sliding extra gil into his hand.

She’d bought tomatoes there last week in a hempen cowl and received no such words, only a cheerful smile. 

The fact made her stomach squirm.

_What do I want?_

But tomatoes do not answer, unless of course they are the living vegetables of Lyhe Ghiah.

-=-=-

Evening came soft and warm over The Mist; a blossom of fuschia and violet over the horizon, and warm southern breeze to stir the body.

The whole free company ate dinner on the lawn that night, roasting sausages and skewered vegetables over the Ishgardian-style campfire that Aymeric had lent Tiel the building plans of.

The fire crackled merrily as she stared into the flames. 

"Gil for your thoughts" Alacran murmured after the little lalafell had been staring into the fire long enough to burn her skewer of peppers.

"Huh?" she whispered, turning her head to face him...only run her cheek into his freshly roasted sausage.

He stifled a smirk as the greasy touch finally registered in her drowsy eyes.

"You...you _nitwit._ "

"Here, eat it. You burnt yours." He offered, handing her the stick.

She accepted, and took a nibble from the dripping tip.

"You wouldn't like them. The thoughts." she finally ventured, staring back into the flames.

Avoiding his eyes.

“There’s plenty to dislike about you, and yet I’m still here.” he quietly stated, sliding zucchini onto a fresh skewer.

She turned then, withering-white, and took her stock of him.

“ _Why_?”

Words failed him in the face of it. She was too _small_ against the sunset, her searching eyes too all encompassing, too gaping-dark.

He had only the weight of his constant actions to speak for him.

“I swore an oath.”

Something flickered in those deep grey wells.

“Of course you did. Of course...”

She finished on a strangled whisper and thrust the sausage back on him.

“I’m retiring early.”

“Have a good night?” he asked as she rose to her feet.

She wavered.

“Perhaps.”

-=-=-

“Your eyes are more mysterious than usual tonight, Mistress Mother” Cravellin softly observed as he removed his boots at the door to her chambers.

“Such strong perception. As expected of an excellent soldier!” Tiel smiled from the edge of the bed, watching as the elezen doffed his cloak with a flourish.

“What ails your mind?” he asked quizzically as he loosed his silver hair over broad shoulders.

She drew a deep breath, and crossed her legs.

“Too many things to count, Cravellin. Best not to find out.”

“Hmmm...” 

He crossed the floor with two quick strides, and knelt down at her feet.

“Sometimes… I find it best not to think about anything at all when there is altogether too much on the mind.”

“Oh? And how do you propose to put these thoughts to bed, my dear?”

In answer, the elezen slid a cool hand up her back, fingering his way up her spine, caressing through the thin linen of her nightgown.

At last he reached her neck, and drew her forward into a soft kiss that unfurled with sweet familiarity. Slowly, she closed her eyes and succumbed to his gentle, insistent tongue.

They broke apart with a gasp, and then he leveled his silver eyes upon her.

“I think... I shall put them to bed by getting you _in bed._ ”

“Oh no...” she whispered instantly.

“No?”

He began to withdraw his hand, only to have her clasp it quickly.

“I meant only: ‘Oh no, my jokes are wearing off on you.’”

The elezen snorted-somehow elegantly.

“Then, my plan?”

Tiel smirked.

“A _very_ good one. Up you get, come!”

They crawled further onto the bed, and fell onto her copious cushion collection with warm glee.

“Ahh, lest I forget-” Cravellin began as he thumbed the buttons of Tiel’s nightgown open.

“Hmm?” she sighed softly, leaning over his hands to lay a kiss on the ridge of his knuckles.

“I can stay the night, if you so wish?”

She froze.

_Luxury of luxuries._

“I would...most appreciate that. To what do I owe such a treat?” she smiled softly, cocking her head to the side.

“The Count gave me a _whole week off_ for my contributions to the House. Unthinkable luxury, yes?”

She laid another kiss to his hand, this one fervent.

“Very much so.”

-=-=-

“A Midsummer's Daydream?” Tiel asked curiously as she stretched out like a cat who had gotten all the cream in the house.

Cravellin smiled and proffered a ticket to her as they lay naked in the sheets.

“A gift from the Count no less. He is most appreciative of all the monetary assistance, and bids me pay more attention to you yet, as an extension of his gratitude.”

Tiel took the ticket thoughtfully, turning it over. 

“Ohh, William Shakeshalberd.”

Cravellin nodded enthusiastically.

“Aye, I have seen several of his plays thus far, and I assure you they make for an excellent evening! The man writes so cleverly, one scarce notices the hours fly by!”

She smiled fondly at him in all his buoyant joy.

“Sounds like you much prefer the play-houses to the guard-houses, Cravellin.” 

The man shrugged sheepishly.

“My post is less than scintillating, necessary though it be. The respite of the play-house, and the pleasure of your chambers delight in comparison.”

  
  


"Stirring praise" Tiel giggled, and considered the elezen thoughtfully. 

"Is it alright? To be seen in public with me? Won't it ruin your reputation if people make the connection between your house's new-found gil stores and your sudden appearance at my side?"

The elezen's face caught in a strange mix of fluttering emotion.

"I was not aware that the mores of our society were known unto you. As ever, you surprise me."

Something flickered in his eyes, and he bowed his head, letting silver locks hide his eyes.

_No denial that it will affect him._

And yet, his company was eminently tolerable, and he seemed willing to undergo society's scrutiny.

Something tiny blossomed in her chest.

“Very well!” she grinned, and rolled over to thumb a soft finger across his ear. The man melted against it, a light blush gracing his features.

_Eminently tolerable._

-=-=-

The morning dawned, bright and cheery, and by ninth bell, Tiel was in fine form as she whisked around the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking batter, and boiling compote.

Alacran stared at the early (for a weekend) morning industry of it, yet again from a doorway.

She noticed him lurking and thrust a wooden spoon his way.

“Stir the compote if you’ve nothing to do besides look stupid!”

“Yes, marm...” he sighed, glad to see some emotion besides melancholy back in her.

They cooked La Noscean Toast together in genial silence as the sun rose high over the sea.

Until two high pitched screams arose from the hall, and pounding little feet came skidding into the kitchen.

“Moooother, there’s a strange-”

“Mom, who _is that?_ ”

Alacran froze by the stove, spoon still in hand as _that elezen_ strolled into the kitchen behind the two tiny miqo'te.

“My apologies, little ladies. It was not my intention to scare you.” the man offered quickly, dipping in an elegant bow.

The two girls hid behind Tiel’s skirts, peering around her at him.

Tiel smiled brightly, and hauled them out.

“Dahlia, Lisa, meet Cravellin. He and I have been, erm, seeing each other.”

Lisa furrowed her brow.

“I can see him too?”

Dahlia ribbed the younger girl.

“That means they’ve been _smooching_!” she whispered.

“Oooh!” Lisa sighed, a hint of understanding flashing in her eyes.

Inwardly, Alacran pumped a fist.

_Score: Dahlia: One, Asshat: Zero._

-=-=-

Somehow, they all ended up at the kitchen table together, eating eggy toast dripping with berries and syrup. 

It was delicious.

But the company was torment.

Alacran watched darkly from across the table as the pair of them sat nearly on each other's laps as they ate, the elezen often leaning down to whisper something in Tiel's ear.

Eventually, the elezen-no, _Cravellin_ \- turned his gaze on Alacran.

"I must extend my thanks for preserving Mistress Mother thus far with your _renowned_ sword and shield." the man offered, taking a berry laden bite to punctuate the feeble olive branch.

Alacran stabbed his toast with his fork just a _tad_ too heavily, and finally fixed a smile upon his face.

"I'm always pleased when I manage to keep her in one piece."

Tiel wrinkled her nose at him for the odd response, but he ignored her, choosing to stare the man down instead.

Pleasantly.

Of course, she had to go and spoil it.

“Cravellin, you've compote on you!”

The man froze, as if that were some grave crime, and turned his eyes to her.

“Where?”

“Just here!” she laughed, reaching a finger up to swipe it off the corner of his thin mouth.

Alacran watched with dread as she considered it, then opened her pink lips and _licked it off_ with her tiny, velvety-looking tongue.

Cravellin smiled down at her, and Alacran clenched his fork with the force of a thousand dalamuds.

_Do_ _not_ _imagine anything._

Dahlia groaned.

“Motheeer, grooooss!!”

Vi-deo stood behind the pair of lovers; caught in the crossfire, blinking her morning sleepiness away in the face of...whatever this was.

She arched a blue brow, as if to say _What in Hydaelyn is going on?_

He winced in return, offering a pained look.

_I have no idea._

_This meal can not end soon enough._

End it did, but only after several more introductions to free company members, who took the sudden appearance of their leader's secret lover with varying degrees of surprise.

Rolanberry seemed for her part excessively in favor of it, shooting Tiel a hidden thumbs-up, much to Alacran's dismay.

_Maybe she has the same thing I do, but for elezen…_ He thought wrathfully as he hid behind his coffee cup.

Finally, many painful minutes later, the pair of lovers rose.

"I will be stealing your company leader away today, I'm afraid.." Cravellin began, dangling his long fingers down to Tiel's shoulders.

Alacran watched with dread as the lalafell laced his fingers in hers and beamed.

"We're off to see Will's new play!"

The kitchen occupants nodded knowingly, while Alacran sat there, feeling as though the planet was veering off course and none but he had noticed.

_Who in the seven hells is Will?_

It occupied his thoughts as he mechanically washed dishes and emptied the soapy water out into the garden.

As he wiped his armor down-finally-and set it out to dry.

As he sat down in front of a stack of blank paper to write.

Until he realized that instead of contemplating the existence of some Will, he was just picturing the way that the elezen's fingers had been dangling on his friend's shoulders as those words had been spoken.

Hesitantly, lightly. _Unassured_.

_Why does it matter to me?_

Moonstone eyes, dancing with flames.

_Why?_

  
  
  
  



	11. Obsession: Claw Your Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's a lemon in this one. (yes i'm old)  
> i don't particularly like it since it's my first and i'm not that good at it yet, but i put too much characterization in it to cut it.  
> this is my hubris. please enjoy.

_“Ladies, when you are of age, despite being free under the law, you may find yourselves trapped by obligations. Unwanted unions, forceful trade deals-anything you can imagine. In those times, all one can do is survive. To that end, I suggest you make what I call the One Hundred List._

_One Hundred Things You Want._

_Goals you want to accomplish, foods you want to eat, emotions you want to arise. Keep always this list, and endeavor to check it off, so that even in the darkest misery, the joy of accomplishment can pierce the dreariness of life fettered.”_

_“Yes, teacher” the lifeless classroom of girls chimed, drooping into their cushions under the oppression of the afternoon sun._

_Momono knotted her fingers together tightly, and carefully turned the words over in her mind as the crow-like teacher looked around the classroom with glinting eyes._

_“Right then, time for mathematics! Open your books to page fourty!” the teacher eventually barked._

_“Finally! What a load of bullocks!” hissed Totoru to Momono’s right._

_Jejewu gasped a shocked giggle at the unladylike epithet, then stifled it as the teacher cleared her throat, staring the disaster trio down._

_“Ladies, what is the motto?”_

_The trio groaned the groan of long-suffering experience._

_“Whatever must be said in a whisper is clearly unfit for polite company, and therefore should not be said at all.”_

_-=-=-_

_“-utter tripe, if ever I wake up in an unwanted union, why, I’d off the fellow myself!” Totoru exclaimed, flinging her paintbrush around with wild abandon._

_Jejewu gasped, nearly sliding off the divan._

_“That would be murder, Toru!”_

_“Please; that’s a touch rich coming from the daughter of a Monetarist!” Totoru blithely shot back, dipping into her pot of moss-green paint._

_Jejewu squirmed uncomfortably at the barb, but Totoru ignored her, turning to her current model._

_“Hold still, Momono. Just like so.”_

_Momono grimaced, her eyes travelling to the bubbling alchemical pot in the corner of the dorm room._

_“Your potions can wait for the sake of art.” Totoru sharply dictated._

_The green-haired lalafell resigned herself to the dreadful fate of holding a graceful pose in a decided graceless manner._

_“Personally, I think she had a bit of a point, though...” she sighed, moving only her lips for the sake of art._

_Totoru shot her a look around the edge of the canvas._

_“What on Hydaelyn do you mean?”_

_Momono rolled her eyes up to the ceiling in thought._

_“I can’t see the point in resisting my fiance, even though he’s duller than a butter knife. I want...well, I want children. I want my father to see grandchildren, to give him the big family he never got because of my mother passing-”_

_“Keep that melancholic look. ‘S good.” Totoru barked out, scrabbling for her finest brush._

_Jejewu sighed, palming her face at the pair of them._

_“-as I was saying, I’ve no particular desire for him, but it’s…”_

_“A means to an end?” Jejewu offered, rising to her feet._

_Momono brightened._

_“Yes! And so I’m thinking of what I want to do besides keeping books and going to bed over and over-my shoulder is cramping, Toru_ _please_ _.”_

_“You can put it down, I’ve got it.”_

_Jejewu strolled over to the alchemy pot and peered in at the queer green sludge inside._

_“And so your solution is alchemy?” she asked, poking a tentative finger at the surface._

_Momono laughed._

_“A bit of alchemy, a bit of stitchery, and then hopefully I can practice midwifery once I better understand them both. Keep busy!”_

_Jejewu whirled around and clapped her hands._

_“Ohh! Then you can attend my birthings!”_

_Momono smiled warmly._

_“That is the dream, yes.”_

_“Melancholic,_ _please_ _” Totoru begged._

_Jejewu stuck her tongue out at the artist._

_“A pox on melancholy!”_

-=-=-

It was bliss to wake up warm, cradled against another body for the first time in _years._

Tiel stretched out her limbs carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping elezen and then luxuriated in the overwhelming comfort of a full bed.

_Maybe that’s why I dreamt of old times._

She smiled at the foggy memories of long ago days sprawling out with old friends under blankets, giggling, joking.

_Being happy._

Her body was too accustomed to life on the move to go back to sleep, so she squirmed her head up higher on the pillow.

The chronometer read not yet sixth bell, and it _was_ a weekend.

Carefully, she stretched out a hand to the stack of novels on her nightstand, taking the top one down.

_Lost in Limsa Lominsa._

By the "mysterious A.C.", according to the cover.

_Mysterious my arse._

She wriggled her way back against Cravellin's softly rumbling chest, and cracked the cover open.

_Arnora Tiller was not the sweetest of women…._

It was bliss.

A kind of bliss that made her unwise, made her head swim with the rareness of it.

A bliss that left her flirting at the breakfast table- _how teacher would be scandalized_ -and left her floating so high that she managed to leave the house without her daily morning tiff with Alacran, without her staff in hand, with an unfamiliar dress and makeup on.

And most importantly; without saying a proper goodbye to the children.

She felt bad within two minutes of leaving the house, but _still._

_Dangerous._

-=-=-

"They're _looking_." Tiel whispered to her companion as they strolled hand-in-hand over the arched bridge to the Jeweled Crozier.

Cravellin flicked his silver eyes to the pair of elezen by the stone railing.

"So they are…"

She squeezed his hand lightly.

"Would you like me to let go? The crozier will have more eyes still."

"I shall...grow accustomed."

His palms were sweaty, but his voice was determined.

"If your companion can manage to _carry you on his shoulders for a ball_ , I can certainly manage holding hands of an afternoon."

She toed a line in the snow, marvelling at the wet, icy way it slid off her boots.

"He has the advantage of being an outsider, Cravellin. Not someone who has expectations placed upon him."

A muscle jumped in the elezen's sharp jaw at the word _expectations_ , but he clenched her hand in earnest.

"That ball… the both of you were ridiculous...ridiculous and refreshing. It was quite the best thing I’d ever seen."

Curiously, she cocked her head up at him.

“It was merely the product of my own stupidity.”

He shook his head immediately.

“Then your stupidity is a blessing. For I…”

A post-moogle flew up to her at that very moment and deposited a letter in her hand with a twirl.

Aghast, Cravellin stumbled back.

“What...what _is_ that?”

“A post moogle?” Tiel absentmindedly responded, sliding a fingernail under the wax seal.

“A _what._ ”

She sighed softly.

“I’ll explain over lunch.”

-=-=-

_Susula and Totoru here!_

_I'm wishing you luck with the fellow, and Totoru is chasing me around the ki~~~tfhen with a paint brush~~~_

_Totoru now. She is a menace, I am sorry for the ink blots._

_Do come soon, for being parted again after such a brief meeting is torture._

_And Momo?_

_You always liked giving up on the best things._

_Don't._

_I didn't._

_Love: Totoru_

_P.S. I know moogles can only carry small missives as per your instructions, but perhaps someday we can get a set of link pearls?_

“We’re here. Cafe Jambon” Cravellin gently remarked, tapping Tiel on the shoulder.

The lalafell flicked her eyes up from her missive.

“Cafe Ham?”

The man smiled.

“Just so.”

-=-=-

_Today as well, we are closer than frost to earth_

_Yet further than our immortal sphere from the stars_

_A wilderness blooms in your terrifying orbs_

_An emptiness, rough, bright and sharp_

_No love, I think. Only dearth._

_Yet the sharp dance we trip_

_Is more than enough for I_

_Satisfied with crumbs and scraps_

_'Tis the pleasant beggar's life_

Cravellin flicked an eye up from his heated scribbles on his napkin just in time to see his companion slice open her egg yolk with hauntingly surgical precision.

“Hm? Something wrong, Cravellin?” she smiled as she grasped a soldier of toast and held it threateningly over the oozing yolk.

He folded the napkin over quickly and picked up his fork.

“Nothing at all.”

-=-=-

Alacran woke up from a fitful after-breakfast nap to find the children were at loose ends, it seemed.

Dahlia stood in front of the book case, taking down books, shaking her head, then putting them back up.

And Lisa...well, she was looking out the window intently, fingering the hem of her sleeves.

_Of course. Sensitive to change._

He knew that feeling intimately.

_Six moons of life alone as a child was enough to instill it, before I was lucky enough to get picked up._

Oh, the little one was picking her scabs now.

_Come back, idiot._

He sighed, and rose to his feet with an exaggerated groan.

The two girls shot a look at him.

“Right, you two, target practice, yard. Now.”

Their little eyes went wide, and then they were running for their weapons.

-=-=-

Walking hand in hand with an elezen may be mistaken for friendship, but exchanging bites of poached eggs and pierogies cannot be mistaken for anything other than _involvement_.

Tiel watched carefully as he shrugged off the glances from their fellow diners with just the slightest twitch in his shoulder, watched as he gallantly lifted her coat from her shoulders in the theater.

_Admirable._

-=-=-

“Draw back the string with more of your back, Lisa. A little more up. Yes, like so.” Alacran commanded.

The girl let fly, and the arrow shot surprisingly straight for the doing of a child under ten summers.

_Vi-deo has clearly been working her hard._

He duly clapped, while secretly inventing fifteen new characters for his next novel.

_Multi-tasking is the secret to patience._

“Good work. Next up, Dahlia.”

The miqo'te walked up to the line he’d drawn in the grass, looking nervous.

“I don’t usually throw my knives, I just...stab the dummy.”

“Hmm. I can work with that.” 

He stamped the ground to summon Lisa’s attention, channeling just a _bit_ of Grandpa.

“New plan, kids. I’m your striking dummy. Come at me with all you got.” He commanded, pulling out his soul stone.

They stared at him, then at each other.

“Won’t we...hurt you?” Dahlia began slowly, clenching her knives.

Alacran hefted his sword, then gave them a rare smirk.

“Don’t assume you’ll land a hit. And even if you do, there’s always Rampart and Clemency to deal with.”

The two girls nodded, then fell back warily, circling the paladin.

Dahlia lunged first, aiming for his back with her knives. 

A good instinct, but when Alacran took a single side step, she missed her mark and stumbled past him in a tumble of gangly limbs.

He waited a half second, heart suddenly in his throat because what if she were more fragile than his own young self had been?

Thankfully, she popped up in a moment, a hint of joyful smile spreading across her face.

“Gonna get you next time!” she cheered, leaping back into defensive position.

“That’s the spirit!” he barked, _definitely_ channeling his grandpa now.

An arrow clipped his horn from behind, and he leapt to the left with a half-spin, just in time to deflect the next arrow with his shield.

Lisa’s white face met him as he lowered his shield warily, her tiny shoulders heaving and her hand trembling as she reached for another arrow from her quiver.

“Aim to kill. If I were a bad guy, you wouldn’t get a third chance!” he directed, brandishing his sword straight at her.

She did a full-body shudder, but immediately nocked the next one under his demanding gaze.

"Good!" he smirked.

-=-=-

A half hour later found the trio lying panting on the soft grass of the lawn.

_I’m slightly out of shape…_ Alacran groaned internally, and rolled on his side to see the kids catching their breaths rapidly.

_Better than expected. Maybe I should take them hunting._

A sudden, slow clap sounded from the direction of the front door.

Wearily, Alacran turned his head to see Rolan standing in the doorway, beaming.

“Well, well. Quite the show!” she cheered.

“Rolan.”

The slight woman smiled, and hopped off the front porch.

“May I have a bout as well??”

He raised a condescending eyebrow, but rose to his feet when he noticed the two little ones gawping eagerly.

“Let’s see if you fare any better than they did, then.” he grunted, picking up his sword again.

She gleefully drew a glinting, deep red soulstone out of her pocket, summoning that ridiculous hunk of metal she called a sword, and a set of armor that was frankly far too pointy-looking to be practical.

He grit his teeth at the sight of it, and reluctantly raised his blade.

She eyed him up and down, then-

“Pluuunge!” she wildly giggled and suddenly she was _there_ in front of him, swinging.

He flung his shield up just in time, and dug deep into the soft grass with his sabatons.

Her ridiculous hunk of metal slammed into his shield, pressing him down into the earth. He pushed against her slowly, drawing deeply on Rampart, until he forced her back and off of him.

The children cheered them on wildly, and his blood sang as he sprinted forward for his counterstrike.

The hyur smirked, then leapt back, raising her sword to block his...then turned the blade on its side, using the flat of the blade to shield herself from the strike.

Alacran raised an eyebrow as his own sword rang out against hers.

“Nice move.” he grunted grudgingly as he retreated.

The woman laughed lightly, and prepared for another strike.  
“When I said to let us fight with her, I fully planned to back it up with actual skill.”

She planted her sword in the ground and then growled.

“ _Unleash._ ”

Alacran felt the magical damage coming before he could react, the familiar feeling of unaspected magic ripping through his defense and sliding under his skin.

“So _cool!!_ ” the girls cheered, jumping up and down on the fence a safe distance away.

Alacran accepted the bloom of pain, and then returned the favor.

“Circle of Scorn.”

Rolan grunted as the blades of light rained down on her, then straightened up.

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t make anything easy.”

“That’s… probably my motto” he snorted, and settled in for the long battle ahead.

-=-=-

“Well, I guess you’re the hero today.” Rolan laughed ruefully, brushing red bangs out of her eyes as she slowly staggered to her feet. Her disarmed sword hand was dripping blood and trembling, but she refused an offer of Clemency.

“Only until their real hero returns...” Alacran mused as he sheathed his sword.

“Hn” she hummed, looking aside.

He sighed.

“Rolan?”

“Yess?”

“It’s been bothering me a while but you…”

“Me what.”

“You don’t consider _her_ a hero.”

She blinked, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Oh. Uh. Well, I guess not? I mean, she’s a dumbass, and she doesn’t want to be one, so why should she?”

Something flared, hot and heavy in his chest.

“She’s done more heroics than you might think to look at her.”

_She came riding in on a massive chocobo to heal me when nobody else would, she’s cleansed every ailment in the book out of me. She’s saved my life dozens of times over, with a fish knife, with a staff, with words alone._

_She’s...my hero._

_Mine._

Rolan raised a brow.

"I guess, but it doesn’t look like she wants to be one. So."

_So she excavates the bottom of the barrel in Ishgard instead._

A sour taste flared on his tongue.

“We’ll see. Kids! Lunch!”

-=-=-

Aymeric did not typically _appreciate_ theater, being of the mind that when country and army did not require his immediate attention, the best form of relaxation was blessed solitude, perhaps with a good, trashy romance novel.

Few pleasures could compare to that joy.

However, Lucia had drunkenly insisted over after-work drinks that "partaking in the arts is a good thing when the play is good", a sentence that was offensive in grammar but not in reason, and so here he was, ensconced in a very plush box seat in Ishgard’s largest play-house, ready to partake in some show called “A Midsummer's Daydream”.

At least he was blessedly alone and could peruse the playbill for his amusement. 

Sadly, it was scant on information, much to his disappointment.

The play had yet to begin, and so he idly gazed around at the filling seats.

Aymeric had chosen a box seat at the top of the house out of the hope none would plague him, but it had the unseen advantage of giving him a viewpoint to check out the covert attempts at snogging that went on during the show.

And _my_ , was old Ibritte ever going at it.

He turned a polite eye away...and then his gaze rested on a familiar blonde head.

It was one of the warriors of light, the very same one who had been plaguing the chirurgeons no end, who gleefully recounted legions of fund-raising ideas at the drop of a hat.

Who flaunted social convention while simultaneously toeing its delicate line.

Who fit curiously well in his arms at balls.

He secured the pair of hither-to neglected opera glasses that Lucia had slipped him and took a long look.

Ho, she was being assisted up onto the elezen-height chair with a hand from…. Some fellow from Haillenarte. He knew the name, but it was tucked too far behind budget proposals and army formations in the back of his head to find.

My, but the fellow left his hand on the lady's waist over long.

_Curious. A recent development, then. But oh, the way she leans against him._

He quietly looked away, observing the other balconies...only to find his eye drifting back unawares. 

-=-=-

The orchestra had yet to begin, and Cravellin looked ready to jump out of his pale skin.

Tiel gently stroked little circles on his palm, trying to quell whatever was plaguing him.

"What ails you, Cravellin?"

"Nothing in particular my lady, just contemplating er...dragons!" he stuttered.

"They are very scary up close, yes." Tiel sighed, accepting his reticence.

The orchestra started up then, coating the theater in golden-sweet sound, rendering conversations silent.

-=-=-

“What a marvelous production!” Tiel smiled, clapping as the curtain descended for a scene change.

“The leading lady’s costume is especially lovely, don’t you think? All that ivy embroidery is treacherous to get right.”

“Is it? I hadn’t...noticed.”

The lalafell sighed, and turned to her companion.

“Really, Cravellin, is something ailing you? Ever since we arrived you appear as though you’ve contracted kidney stones or something equally dreadful.”

The man’s shoulder jerked, and then he sighed.

“I can hide little from a Warrior of Light, it seems. I have a scene of my own to play this evening."

Slowly, he reached into the pocket of his bliaud, and pulled out a ring that gleamed under the light of the candelabras.

She watched as he turned it over with twitching fingers, presenting it to her.

It was golden, a thin, twisted band, on top of which seven rubies glowed, arranged in the shape of a rose.

“Your crest...” she noted aloud, and sat very still.

“Aye…” the man uttered softly.

And then he slid out of his chair to kneel before her.

“It would seem that all the carefully rehearsed words I had prepared have _quite_ fled. I...Well, you can see from the ring that my intentions are for..marriage-no, I mean. Marry me?”

She stared at the ring, then into his quicksilver eyes.

“It wasn’t in the deal for you to…”

“It wasn’t.”

“It will be very hard for you…” she murmured thoughtfully.

He bit his lip.

“It may well be...nay, it shall, but...but...it's all been astonishingly tolerable thus far."

His hands were trembling.

_Is this what you really want?_

_Astonishingly tolerable._

Suddenly she could see what she hadn’t allowed herself before; a future where she wasn’t alone.

A grey world of adventuring before returning to a docile husband, and only just a few racially _interesting_ children who would never quite fit into Ishgardian society and whose existence demanded the neglect of children with cats ears.

_He did not fit in at that breakfast table._

She knotted her fingers in the watered silk of her dress and drew herself inwards tightly.

_To bloom a fragile blossom or to crush it underfoot..._

_“Is this what you really want?”_

_What are you?_ queried the fading voice of Thordan.

She looked past Cravellin’s head blankly as the curtain arose yet again.

_Am I an actor on a greater stage?_

_The letter, Totoru always getting to the heart of things._

_Be not content._

And one small voice whispered _...buy the stock._

She sprang up from the chair as the orchestra struck up the overture for the beginning of the next act.

“Cravellin, I-”

He looked at her with eyes that bloomed with frost and silver, and before she could let any words out, he leaned down and crushed them back into her mouth with a wide-mouthed, enveloping kiss.

She rose into it, half melting from the familiar heat... and then indignation rose up her spine. She thumbed along his jaw, and then mashed it up into the soft underside, digging her short, _pretty_ nail against the skin and tissue, in one brutal thrust. The elezen reeled back, clutching it in shock.

She glared him down, and wiped her lips. 

"I prefer people who let me _tell them my decisions,_ or at least listen while arguing with me."

His face collapsed.

"I didn't… I merely meant to keep you from being hasty…"

"Because you knew that my initial reaction might not be favorable?" she snapped, something inside her going to pieces, a thousand shards falling beyond her grasp.

She stared wildly around the theater, at the patrons peering over their fans at their precious vignette of a lovers spat.

"I… oh _Halone_ , did you pick the theater to keep my reactions to a minimum? Is that what this is, Cravellin? A cowardly way of swaying my hand? If it is, you’ve miscalculated, for I _always make scenes._ "

Something in his eyes smacked of regret.

“It was...not _my_ plan.”

_Shite. Shite it’s the money, the_ _money_. 

_Of course it is, that’s how the world works._

_So why does it hurt?_

She drew herself up to her full height, and stared him down.

"May I remind you, I was one of the people who killed Thordan and his knights.”

His eyes blew wide at the barely concealed threat. Tension mounted in her throat. 

“Th..Thordan asked me with his dying breath _what I am._ I still don't know the answer to that, but what I do know is when I try to coerce people, I do not do it in a _sodding theater._ I… I can’t do this.”

She shoved the ring into his limp hands and spun on her heel.

“Goodbye."

Cravellin watched dismally as she left in a flurry of silk. 

Slowly, he sank against the balcony railing.

On stage, the hero was bleating on about how “the course of love runs _never_ smooth.”

It was far too on the nose to bear.

He rose shakily and broke into a sprint.

-=-=-

Tiel leapt down the stairs five at a time, and considered leapfrogging over a balustrade in flight just for the drama.

Cravellin followed behind desperately, losing his footing on the turn of the landing and crashing in an undignified tangle of long limbs.

She spun around a second to check that he hadn’t _broken_ anything, but seeing a determined look on the man’s face for once, spun back ‘round and made a wild dash down a side-corridor, hoping for an empty room, a laden coat rack. Anything.

The man desperately scrambled behind, wondering at her fleetness of foot.

Unfortunately, elezen legs are treacherously long and though she plunged down luxuriously carpeted halls and around dark corners, the man could not be shaken.

At last he trapped her at the end of a hall lined with coat closets, before doubling over to catch his breath, hands on his thin knees.

Tiel glared him down, shoulders drawn tight.

“Let me go, I have no desire to bash your ribs in with stones!”

“Wait! Wait…” he wheezed, thrusting back his fly-away hair.

Furiously, she drew near, heels clicking thunderously on the marble tile.

“Fine then! It was not your plan, not _yours_ \- Your Count’s then, was it not? Oho, your eyes give you away for all your training, all your pretty planning, _craven man_.”

He flinched, shame washing over his features.

“It did not sit easy with me, the orders. I must say that, whether or not you choose to believe my report.”

“And what orders were they?” she demanded, folding her arms.

He sank to his knees.

“To assure your continued connection to the family. He wanted...to be sure your money would be there, feared that I would eventually bore you, being capable of so little in life. I _swear_ I only wanted to abide by your terms! I would have come by for years, been never anything except what you want!”

_What I want._

_…_

“...not this” she slowly murmured under her breath.

“Pardon?”

“I don’t...I don’t know what I want, but it’s not this. Not you, not like this.”

His eyes flew wide, and he stumbled forward on his knees.

“Please. I didn’t want this either, but of all the women I’ve met, you are the most terrifying and the most amusing. I couldn’t think of anyone I could _try_ more with than you.”

She shook her head, eyes shimmering in the weak candle-light.

“I don’t wish to try being pawns with you… Oh, _listen_ ” she cried, reaching a hand up to trace along his jaw.

"You've been...it's been lovely, and I really, all this time thought my most secret wish was a proposal, an eternal companion most of all... but now that you've handed it to me it tastes bitter...and I just _can't endure it._ "

_Forgive me, Teacher. Your students are more greedy than you thought._

_For I think…_

"You...you have been the most enchanting-no, I have-" Cravellin began desperately, floundering his hands like a landed fish.

"Are those your _real_ words, Cravellin?” she asked as she willed her lips to stop trembling.

“Or….have I put a gag in your mouth of my wealth?"

He seized up, eyebrow twitching under her ministrations.

_Ah._

She smiled, brittle and bitter.

_He was right._

“Good bye.” she whispered, and let her hands drop.

“Wait! One last night, I beg of you!” he called, grasping her hand and pressing a searing kiss into her palm.

“Not for the sake of money, but only for the sake of a woman whose company I’ve enjoyed.”

She froze, a thousand thoughts winging through her mind like a barrel of butterflies.

A tendril of lust snuck up her spine into her traitorous mind.

"I…"

He kissed his way up her arm, lips thin and soft over the silk.

"One last allowance..." he sighed, and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw as best he could.

Right over the spot where she'd bruised him.

Tacit forgiveness.

She crumpled.

_Always taking the scraps._

“Make your memory sweet then, soft-heart” she smiled like lemon-tea.

"Here, or in an inn?"

Her face wrinkled.

"Inns in Ishgard are terrible."

The elezen clapped a hand to his chest.

"You wound our national pride daily."

He cast about the empty hall, and decisively pulled her aside into a coat-closet filled with grand cloaks.

“It is not the romantic of our rendezvous points-” he smiled apologetically, ushering her to the back, behind all the ruffles and wool.

“-but I rather think the romance is ending.” Tiel smiled, emptying out her hidden stores of affection methodically as she spoke.

“Much as you made a pleasant bed fellow I don't appreciate the way your Count toys with the both of us” she stated frankly, slipping off her gloves as she spoke.

Cravellin sighed, and sank to his knees before her yet again to speak.

“Aye, I had never intended to secure a marriage, truth be told. I rather...despise children, for one thing. Your terms of none were thus most agreeable.”

_Vastly uncompatible, after all. Wait-_

“Bother! That reminds me, I haven't got a potion”

The elezen looked chagrined.

“...Neither do I. I hadn't expected to be er...fornicating in a coat closet.”

Tiel smirked, an onze of confidence flooding back, and grabbed the man by his coat buttons, dragging his head down to press a kiss to his blossoming bruise.

“We can make do, don’t you think?” she whispered, and blew a portion of her private daydreams away as she breathed against his ear.

“Oh absolutely!” he breathed back, and shot her a rare devilish look as the only warning before hoisting her aloft, placing her on the hat-shelf above the hooks.

“What are- ooh” she sighed, as he slid cool hands under her skirts, stroking her from the calves upwards.

“I always did appreciate your fondness for stockings and knickers over bloomers” he murmured softly, hooking his fingers into the lacy edge of said knickers, and pulling them demandingly down.

She arched her bottom up from the shelf to let them slip off, and bit her lip in anticipation.

_Anyone could come in._

It was practically the equivalent of back alley in Limsa-only with twice the social danger.

The thought made her shudder, and Cravellin stifled a huff of a laugh.

“You’re practically dripping already.” he noted, a hint of lasciviousness in his tone.

“Always was ridiculously fecund!” she snickered.

“ _That_ does not cover the _half_ of it” he smirked, sliding his fingers through her folds slowly, with tantalizing promise, only to pause.

"Say please?"

She lowered her eyelids heatedly.

" _Please_ " she hissed, face flushing.

" _Lovely_."

He stroked her gently at first, soft circles, then edged upwards into insistent with rapidity. 

She sucked in a hot breath as warmth pooled in her groin, and leaned against the azure-painted wall in tense anticipation.

_I could have gotten by with just this._

But his face was too reverent. 

" _Always lovely._ "

One slender finger slipped inside her, then two, crooking against her at first gently, then with familiar, increasing force.

The ridiculousness of the situation suddenly struck her, and she let a heated giggle slip.

Cravellin flipped his hair back with a haughty head toss, and raised a querical eyebrow.

"Nothing, I just _cannot_ believe you're fingering me on top of a coat ra-nnnh!"

"Sssh" hushed Cravellin, crooking his deliciously long fingers just _right_ and watching with a gloating look as she bit her lip in an attempt to stay silent.

" _Unfair_ " she bit out with a gasp.

"Very fair, I think, considering your general disposition for torment."

“It would seem- _nnmn_ -that the torment-tables are turned against me tonight” she bit out as slowly her walls began to clench around his _far too deft_ fingers.

The elezen let out a huff of hot, satisfied laughter against her leg, making her twitch and convulse around him, winding _tight, tighter._

Slowly, he kissed up the inside of her thighs, pressed a especial kiss to the hollow of her thigh, and then _bit down, slowly._

The pain filtered through the fiery spasms of her cunt, of the fingers pressing, _insisting._

It wound her tight, flooded her mind to the limits. 

She came with a ragged gasp, stifling sound with a bitten lip and a hand clapped over her mouth.

“So quick” the man smirked, licking his fingers clean.

Tiel sighed, slumping against his bony shoulder.

"I have afforded you much practice, it is to be expected one would become an expert.” she giggled, feeling half mad.

Cravellin considered, then pitched forward between her knees.

"I'm sorry..." he murmured against her cunt, then lapped up every drop of wetness with his expert tongue.

“You needn’t-nnh.”

“Wet legs are no fun, take it from a man whose outpost is surrounded by snow.”

Slowly, she began to pet his hair as he fussed, sighing.

“I'm going to have the mark of your teeth for ages.”

"Consider it a parting gift” he beamed, raising his head.

Something in her stomach went soupy to see it, then bled away faster than she could hold onto it.

_Good._

Slowly, she raised a wry eyebrow.

“Let me down then, so I may return the favor.”

The elezen gently hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her down with a twirl around for _flourish._

_Ever fond of spectacle._

“I hadn’t thought of myself…” he murmured, holding her at arm’s length as he whirled.

“But how can I not think of you?” she asked, cocking her head coquettishly, biting back the emptiness yawning wide inside.

His face collapsed into laughter.

“One cannot argue with a Warrior of Light, it seems.”

_And that was the problem._

Once restored to earth, she deftly returned the favor of his caresses, sliding small hands up the length of his legs, taking time to press against the corded muscle with tantalizing promise.

“You know, I don't think I've ever done this with you upright" she mused, finally undoing the buttons of his trousers.

"It has always been in more comfortable environs, yes" remarked the elezen, his voice straining as she rapidly freed his cock from his undergarments. 

“Hnnn” she hummed, stroking along its length.

Cravellin cleared his throat roughly.

"I don't wish you to throw up again, since it would be difficult to clean up in here...so don't try swallowing this time?"

She paused a moment in her ministrations, then smirked.

"Give me an excuse to wash this ridiculous makeup off then?"

"With _pleasure._ " Cravellin grinned.

She returned to her mission with zest.

Softly, she traced across his pelvis with warm fingers, and followed the track of her hands with kisses, pausing to suck a mark into the juncture of his leg in return-a move that produced a most _satisfying_ buckle of the elezen's knees.

(It helped that her plump cheek was brushing along the rapidly stiffening outline of his cock.)

"Tease" he wheezed, clutching the coat rack above her head.

Genially she flicked her eyes up his flushed face.

"Always." she blithely promised, then laved wet kisses and kitten-licks all the way along his length.

“... _Halone…”_

She considered, then took him in her mouth without ceremony, laxing the back of her throat with just a bit of tremulousness.

He craned his neck down to view the _always_ intoxicating sight of his cock being swallowed by her small mouth.

“...near sinful…”

_It might be, if you churn through enough Ishgardian scripture._

She swallowed around it as best she could-it was always a task, for some combinations of race just _barely_ work, though they all _do_ with determination-and moved with the guidance of his finger tips back and forth upon it, drenching him in tight, wet _heat_.

“Getting..there” he called softly.

She pulled back, hands sliding along the taut muscle of his legs.

"Perineum?" She asked with near medical efficiency.

"Please." he huffed, trailing off in a smile.

She slid her fingers up into the blessedly clean cleft and pressed _just so._

_Sorry Susula, second reason to have short nails._

_Anatomical exploitation._

She took him deep as she could, cursing the narrowness of her throat as always.

Soon, his hips stuttered, and then his long fingers were in her hair, yanking her back.

She closed her eyes just in time as come spattered across her face, decorating her eyelids afresh with pearly globules, spattering across her hair in a sticky spray.

_Like the world's strangest rainfall_ she thought hysterically.

_Why… did I do this? Any of this._

Deep down, her heart knew.

_Running away, always running away from..._

Her mind refused to finish that sentence, buckling under the strain, sending her to that dark, lonely inn room where there was _nobody except the infernal carbuncle, nothing they’re all dead probably and you’re alone forevermore..._

"Hey, hey. Are you alright?? Come back."

Hands.

Cool hands on her face, her chin, wiping her eyelids tenderly.

Slowly, slowly she cracked one eyelid open, wincing at the wetness on her eyelashes.

Silver eyes, their corners creased with worry stared her back.

She leaned into the cool touch, melting onto the floor.

"I'm.. alright. Just. I...I want to go home.."

“Of course, of course. I shall take you myself.”

He lent her his hands, pulling her up with ease, wincing at the slight tremble in her fingers.

"Perhaps...this was ill-advised, the, the rendezvous-only I just wanted.. to _appreciate_ ”

Softly, she let go of him, and straightened her skirts.

"I shall be right as rain-once I get this face paint off."

"Right, yes. Yes. I've a handkerchi-" 

His eyes widened dramatically at something behind them.

Quickly, she whirled, expecting to see some horrified noble lady about to burst into screams…

...Only to see a velvet cloak, bedecked with several strands of come, just like her face.

She stared, then slowly chuckled.

"I...I cannot _believe_ you got your seed on some lord’s fine cloak!"

Cravellin shook his head.

"Neither can I, believe me. But somehow, it doesn’t seem to matter tonight. Handkerchief?”

"Please and thanks. Mischief suits you, it must be said!" she laughed shakily, and called a Fluid Aura into existence to drench the handkerchief.

He watched with admiration as the water issued forth from nothingness onto the square of cloth.

"I _shall_ miss you. And, I suppose, my house shall miss your money." 

She silenced him with a resolute finger to his reddened lips.

"The only thing missing shall be me. Your house shall still receive money, only I shall send it by courier."

Ardently, he laid a kiss to her hand.

"You are our hero, more than ever."

Slowly she cocked her head, and grinned near coyly.

"You know, you are at your most tolerable when you're being broken up with."

The man snickered, and gave a little, theatrical bow.

"Tolerable was not enough for your appetite."

"Indeed."

_I shall be hungrier from now on._

A few moments of scrubbing and one soft pointing out that yes, it did get in her hair too, they were ready to head home.

They left the cloak sodden.

-=-=-

The velvet-black sky stretched out above them, embedded with a thousand twinkling night-gems, and the snow crunched under foot as they walked hand in hand towards the city gate.

Tiel stared sightlessly off into the night as they strolled.

“Thank you. It was the warmest winter I’ve had in a long time.”

Cravellin paused midstep, then resumed carefully.

“What can one even say in times like this?” he sighed.

“Nothing will do just fine.”

Quietly, they continued to the city gates.

As he hoisted her aloft his chocobo, he paused.

“What is it that you would have wanted from me?”

She hung between earth and heaven in his hands. 

Honesty seemed the only thing to be done.

“An hour ago, I would have said children. But now...”

She thought of the stack of novels in her room, all written by the mysterious author A.C.

_Ridiculous plots aside…_

“Now I think I dare ask for love.”

His eyes considered her carefully as he set her astride the bird.

“Love. I wonder if I could have.”

“Don’t flatter yourself” she needled sweetly.

He snorted, then coughed in the icy air.

“I...hggh…”

“Alright?”

“I daresay neither of us are.”

“Perhaps not.”

-=-=-

Their hearts beat in tandem by the star-light washed sea edge as the chocobo bore them Mist-ward.

Cravellin, seeming to sense that their time was nearly up, broke the silence.

“I never _did_ ask how so fine a warrior and healer found time to become a decent lover.”

Tiel smiled wryly into his wide chest, nuzzling close in the cold.

"The taverns of Limsa Lominsa are always...educational for the lonely traveler."

" _Are_ you lonely?"

"I was."

"Will you be...later?" he ventured carefully.

_After "goodnight", you mean..._ she thought.

Slowly, she lifted her head, and saw some small hint of calculation in his eyes.

She rapped him on the knee.

"Oww! Whatever was that for?"

"Oh, I must have confused you for someone else! Terribly sorry! Anyway, stop trying to imitate your count. It doesn't suit a theatrical fop such as you."

He snorted, then bowed his head over her.

“What then would you have me be?”

She smiled widely.

“Yourself, now.”

-=-=-

“Let me off here.” Tiel imperiously commanded at the entrance to the Mists.

“Very well.”

The elezen slipped off the chocobo, and then lifted her down from her high seat for the _very last_ time. It left her heart echoing empty to have his familiar hands slip off of her silk-wrapped form.

“It has been the worst and the most pleasant of nights, Cravellin.”

He bowed low, one last time.

“Most certainly. You know of our address?”

“I wouldn’t dream of _not_.”

“As always, a woman with a hand in every dish.”

“Just so. Goodbye.”

She watched him go, for it was always deliciously elegant, and then turned homeward-bound.

As she strode firmly down the familiar white stone path, she kicked one shoe off and then the next into the darkness.

_Alone again._

She snarled at herself and ferociously ripped her bonnet off, threw it into the sky and let the ice-cold sea breeze whip it away.

_You're a fool. Cruel, cruel fool._

Her coat was next as she flounced through the garden gate, pitched into the pond to lay limply in the water.

_Alone, and undeserving by your own hands._

She wrenched open the front door furiously, and breathed deeply as she stepped across the familiar threshold.

And _he_ was there, mug of cocoa in hand.

_Of sodding course. I can’t rid myself for the life of me._

“How was the date?” her long time companion asked as he languidly raised the steaming mug to his _sodding_ blank face.

“Oh, _interesting!_ ” she spat out, tearing off one glove and then the other and balling them.

One purple eyebrow arched.

“How so?”

“Well, I would have come home with a _ring tonight_ , only thanks to your wise lectures I could not conscience it."

She threw the gloves into the foyer fireplace to punctuate the statement.

He nearly shot cocoa out his nose.

_Serves you right_ she thought unkindly.

“A _ring?_ "

“Yes. A ring. Nearly an honest woman. But I refused him, cut him out just like you wanted!”

She smiled widely at him, at _herself_ and ripped at the high collar of her dress, tearing the neck open to free her throat.

A copper button popped off in her vigor and spun away into the shadows with a sharp _clink._

“You were right, right all along and I hate it. I _hate_ it.” she cried, hands aloft, sounding more like a harridan than a twenty-something lalafell.

“I suppose I should have seen it coming, from a noble hero, from a denizen of love-the writer of things inscrutable to my frail, _manipulative_ sight!” 

She tore open the bodice of her dress so she could breathe, vaguely noting _textbook anxiety attack_ , and struck a mocking bow.

“Congratulations! You were right! I admit it, it was _wrong_ of me to manipulate a person so, and I got my just return for it tonight! So I cut my losses, made up for my misdeeds, and now I’ve crawled back to lick my wounds."

_To realize that I've never loved, and that nobody has loved me._

_Because I have never asked it, never searched it out._

“Are you alright…” he slowly began, taking a step towards her.

“Do I _look it?_ ” she laughed, unhooking her earrings.

“No.” he stated frankly, setting down the mug on the mantel.

Tiel sighed.

"Right. Well. I'm going to bed. Sorry for the outburst. It's...not your fault."

"You're not going."

He stepped forward and scooped her up with his distressingly long arms before she could blink.

“Put me _down. Don’t you dare manipulate me._ ” she screeched, pounding against his chest with tiny fists.

_Why didn’t I study the fist???_ She wildly remonstrated herself, then tried to land a kick sideways against his ribs unsuccessfully.

"Alacran, _please,_ what are you _doing??_ "

He sighed heavily.

"I don't _really_ know, besides taking care of you, but we're going to sit on the couch and yell at each other until we do know."

Slowly, he bore her towards the couch-their couch-and watched quietly as she went limp in transit, turning her head towards his chest.

_I can do this_ he decided, and clenched her tightly to himself.

"What happened today?" he carefully asked as he set her down on the couch.

She looked bleakly up at him as he sat down next to him.

"A lot."

He waited as she buried her face in her hands, waited as the chronometer ticked the minutes away, until she gave in and gave over to speech.

"All this time, I thought my sole wish was to be a mother, and to be a midwife like my mother before me. Then I got proposed to tonight, against all expectations... 

But instead of feeling elated at the prospect of fulfilling that dream, I felt _horror_. I felt horror for something I'd thought I always wanted. 

All I could think was that I'd have to leave the girls behind, that _oh, I'd already neglected them this morning_ and there was a pit opening up in my stomach even as my disgusting heart felt elation. _Halone…_ "

She shuddered against him and softly, heart in his mouth, incredulity dancing through his mind, he laid a heavy arm on her back, dragging her against him.

Slowly, unconsciously, she unfurled against him, into him.

He stared down at her.

"That's...that's where your head has been this whole time? Not on whether you love him or not, just whether or not he was a suitable...partner??"

"Never...intended to fall in love" she mumbled into his ribs.

His heart stopped a moment against her ear.

"... _never?_ Whyever not?"

“I hadn’t considered obtaining it. Life’s not a fairytale, not a romance novel-much as you’ve made them grow on me-, so I thought of half-measures, of interests and diversions to distract the heart from any hint of unhappiness. I planned to save all my love for my children.”

He reeled to hear it.

“That sounds like shite.”

She snorted weakly.

“I’m just realizing it kind of was. But that was how I was raised, taught. That I’m not special. That gil makes the world go ‘round. So I should scrabble to find contentment.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for that.”

_Or pay for it._

His hand tightened around her side.

“Shouldn’t have to settle for that, ‘cause you're _good._ Because you’re _a hero._ ”

“I’m not.”

_She says it so flatly._

She fisted a hand in his loose shirt, and peered up at him through the beginnings of tear-trails.

“ _Please_ , let me be better to you, don’t let me drag you down into every dirty bit of my _life._ It pains you! You want to be a noble hero, don’t you? Not my...my _dog._ A beast at my foul command.”

_Sod Sosoyati._ He grimly thought, vaguely recalling the dead man's words.

She lowered her eyes and pressed on, allowing him no time for rebuttal.

"I've never been some paragon of virtue. Just some girl who can heal a bit...enough to be useful in the fate of the world. 

Replaceable. 

Not a noble existence like yourself, only a _greedy, greedy being_ with the bloodiest hands that drip all over you. 

You… you're the _powerful one._ You help people, silently, over and over again. It’s _terrifying and lovely…_ and I don’t know why you tolerated me dragging you along to that horrid place, where you ended up having to...”

Her shoulders shook.

He scarcely knew where to begin.

"You're not. Replaceable."

"But I am. Always have been."

"You are _not._ " he growled, seizing her small hands in his.

"None else have worn themselves to the bone for me, rode through the snow at the drop of a hat to heal me through that _sodding Aurum Vale_ . The day that you did was the day you became _my hero._ "

She shook her head blindly, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Something ascended in his chest like a fire-bird at the sight of it.

“Listen, Tiel, I'm not always right and I'm definitely not just…”

_After all, I've been stifling very impure thoughts and chasing away nightmares with hidden bloodlust._

"...may I remind you, I was the one who drew first blood back there.”

His grip tightened around her tiny fingers.

“And I don’t regret it, even if it plagues my dreams.”

_Forgive me Mother. The world was too perfect when the blade slid in._

She winced.

“You don’t need to pretend on my account. I’ve always seen how you hate doing it. So I always, always try to kill our sentient enemies for you.” she whispered. 

“You… kill them for me?”

“Whenever possible. It’s why I love Holy so much. You don’t have to lift your hand.”

_Feet scarred, soul bleeding._

He shook his head incredulously.

“All this time, your bloodlust was for me?”

She nodded slowly.

"After all, I've been taking without giving. It was the least I could do."

"Lies. I've seen everything, haven't I? The toll on your body.”

_You give so much._

“But I've forced you to go places, do ridiculous things, and _kill on my behalf._ ”

She uttered it as though it were the greatest sin.

Slowly, slowly he sighed, and gathered her onto his lap.

“You... are indeed the most vexing person I have ever met. But you are also the greatest.”

“There are far greater!” she stubbornly insisted, even as she sagged against him.

“There’s none. Ever since you thundered into my life for good on that ridiculous chocobo, there’s never been any better.”

He crushed her against his chest, not letting her see his eyes.

“You are _my hero..._ ”

_Mine, please mine._

“...And someday you'll get what you want.”

His eyes gleamed gold in the dark of the room. 

_This is as far as you ought to go_ he chided himself, willing his heart to stop racing at the warm press of her body against his.

“...You deserve no less…” he whispered into her golden hair.

She smiled distantly over his shoulder.

"I want... to be loved"

His horns caught the sound of tiny feet in the hall.

_Time to let go._

He pulled her off of his shoulder and motioned to the door.

"You already are."

"Mom??" Lisa stood in the doorway of the living room, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Dahlia peered around the corner, just above her little head.

“How was the DATE! Did you smooch?!!”

Tiel winced, sliding out of his grip.

“Yes we did, but then we ended up breaking up. So I planned on coming to say sorry.”

She hopped off his lap, and bounded over to the girls.

Lisa cocked her head curiously.

“Mom is...sorry?”

Tiel smiled softly, and scooped the little girl up off her feet.

“I sure am, because I made you two meet someone who you’ll never see again. Did it bother you to have a strange man at breakfast?”

Lisa sheepishly nodded.

“A little…”

Tiel sighed.

“Well, I’ve resolved that the next time I _smooch_ a fellow, I’ll bring him around first to make sure he's alright with you two. Because I loved you first.”

Dahlia looked at her with too-wise eyes and grinned.

“Then we’ll make sure to give him trouble!”

“Make it...double” Lisa yawned.

Tiel laughed heartily.

“Oh dear, the two of you have formed a terrorizing squad while I’ve been gallivanting, hm?”

Dahlia snickered.

“Yep! And then we did target practice with mister paladin!”

The little mother raised her eyebrows.

“Oh really? I’ll have to get him to tell me all about it tomorrow. But for now, let me tuck you two in.”

She spun around with Lisa giggling in her arms, and looked to the xaela.

“See you later?”

“Aye.”

-=-=-

“What a charming show tonight, eh, Lord Commander?”

Aymeric smiled pleasantly at the bureaucrat as they strolled in tandem towards the coat closets.

“Indeed. I am no great purveyor of theatre, but there was a certain charm to tonight’s show, to be sure.”

The man smiled and nodded eagerly, clearly pleased to be exchanging even light conversation with such a higher up.

“Although some of the patrons seemed quite low brow- did you _see_ the lalafell assault some fellow in box eight? Dreadful!”

Aymeric smiled wryly.

“I believe most did.”

“I haven’t the foggiest what this city is coming to, what with the gates being open to all sorts now!...er, that is, not to criticize your methods-”

“Please, any concerns of the citizens are concerns of mine.”

“Quite so-thank you Ser! Oh, here’s my coat. The best to you, Ser!”

“And to you as well” Aymeric added smoothly, and whisked himself away before the chap could work in another long winded sentence.

His particular coat closet had been mostly emptied out when he came in, so locating his own garment was an easy task…

“Who in Hydaelyn’s name has the gall to come on my cloak?”

-=-=-

“I really _am_ sorry, girls. I shouldn’t have surprised you like that.” Tiel murmured softly as she rolled the covers up under tiny chins.

_Everyone has been learning quite the wrong lessons from me as of late..._ she thought ruefully.

_You reap what you sow..._

“‘S….ok” Dahlia yawned, her ears drooping against the pillow.

_I will make things alright._

-=-=-

Alacran waited.

Not for the first time, not for the last.

But this was definitely the hardest yet, for he could almost feel her warmth still against him, still felt the fading heart-ache.

He flexed a hand, remembering the softness of her waist, the…

And then there she was, alone, illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace.

Quietly she crossed the room and returned to his side.

They sat in silence as the fire died for good, until the shimmering moonlight through the windowpanes was the only illumination that remained.

One small hand found its way to his thigh, though he scarcely knew when.

“Thank you.”

He nearly missed it, but it somehow smoothed away every jagged edge inside himself to hear it.

“Thank _you_ ” he whispered in return, and slowly took her hand in his.

Her eyelids drooped in the dark, and she sagged against him.

“You should probably get to bed” he noted, but couldn’t bear to move, for she was finally _here._

Tiel drowsily thought of the bed, still unmade from that morning. 

Of how empty it would be.

She fastened a small hand to his shirt and he stilled at the touch.

“Stay here with me? Just for tonight?” she whispered pleadingly.

His arms wrapped around her before he knew, for he could deny her nothing, preening in the _rightness_ of it.

“Always.”

-=-=-

_"I still can not believe you would settle for anyone terrible"_

_"Contentment is all I can hope for. I'm no-one special, after all! Worse fates are out there than a boring husband."_

_Totoru clapped a hand to her face and groaned._

_"Sometimes, you're cold as ice."_

_…_

_"You deserve no less…"_

_No less..._

-=-=-

Morning dawned, dirtying the horizon with orange and pink.

The birds were _far too loud_ after such a travesty of a night.

“Hello there, hero” Tiel mumbled, rubbing booger-laden eyes.

“Gross” Alacran muttered thickly around a throat of morning phlegm as he watched the boogers flake off.

They untangled themselves from the joint-stiffening curl of bodies they’d made on the couch, laughing in the faces of one another as every crack of bone resounded in the early morning air.

“Right! Breakfast! Lots to do today!” Tiel cheered, her eyes aglow.

-=-=-

After breakfast, she stole away, chasing down various free company members and muttering low conversations.

Alacran waited.

He took to his writing again.

_A fresh, new story._

He left the window open for the sea breeze, and relished the scent of the fresh paper mingling with ink and salt.

A strange scraping sounded outside his bedroom window, and curious, he leaned out to see Tiel, up to her wrists in torn-up grass, a hoe and trowel abandoned at her side.

"What are you doing?" 

Her little head shot up merrily.

"Trying to garden!"

"What for?"

"I've never been able to, ironically! I can move the earth around, move the air and the water but the plants just don't seem to listen."

She picked up the trowel and stabbed at the earth anew.

"Bother! Get...out...roots!"

Alacran snickered at her, and leaned out further.

"Maybe if you use your hands?"

"Oh! Perhaps the plants can feel my love better then."

He wheezed.

"What...what does that even mean?"

She laughed, twinkly sweet and low, in a way that sent shivers up his spine.

"I haven't the foggiest!"

She set down the trowel, and enveloped her hands in the soil thoughtfully, raking up from underneath with her fingers.

A worm wriggled in her hand, and disgusted, she flicked it half across the yard.

"Stay out of my way"

"You're mad." Alacran drawled, climbing up onto the window sill, delighting in the gentle warmth of early spring.

"So are you!" she called solemnly, tearing away at the earth with her pink nails with determination.

_I want to become a better version of myself._

_Happier._

She looked up into his golden eyes.

“I’ve been quite mad of late and I think I’ll continue to be. But you don’t have to go along with me and my schemes. You’re a _hero._ I’m… well, I’m a healer who sometimes manages to be heroic.”

_I can't quite accept your grand words yet, Alacran._

She lifted her hands, stained in mud now and let the sludge trickle off.

“I’ll have your back still for heroics! But you, you don’t need to have mine for the rest. I decided that I’ll let the free company help me in my private endeavors from now on. I don’t wish to overburden you, to cause you pain.”

“You haven’t-” he began earnestly.

“I have. I saw the way you looked on the floor after killing that man.” she proclaimed solemnly, plunging her hands into the mud again.

_Nobody can survive someone who takes and takes_ she quietly reminded herself.

“Oh bah, another worm. I swear, I can hold entrails, I can hold _yours_ , but worms are just _too much!_ ” she shivered, and flicked another away.

He ground his claws into the sill.

"I swear to you I don't regret it."

"I know. But Rolan is right, I should be more leader-like. Delegate so as not to overburden you. I want to change! Become better. And that means being kinder to you."

_Then let me stay by your side_ Alacran groaned internally.

Tiel beamed a sunny grin, and brandished a muddy finger at him.

"So as _your_ _leader_ as well, I demand you tell me when I'm making you unhappy, troubled."

"Only if you tell me when _you're_ unhappy and troubled." he shot back.

_At least let me have this much._

She stared at him, then sprung up and offered him a grimy hand.

"Very well! To new beginnings."

-=-=-

“You’ve failed.”

"Indeed I have" drawled Cravellin, leaning back in his rickety wooden chair.

Count Haillenarte leveled a fiery gaze at the man.

"I suppose it was to be expected, considering your track record, but you _disappoint me_."

Something gleamed in the Cravellin's eyes.

"I suppose so, but the disappointment, I assure you is even greater for I than for you."

The Count leaned back in his own far-too-old chair and knotted his fingers.

"Don't tell me you fell in love."

Cravellin laughed.

"Mm, something far more jeopardizing, I'm afraid."

He languidly dug within his bilaud and withdrew an envelope.

"From the lady herself. I do not know the contents, but I can guess them" he blandly stated, handing it over.

The Count ripped the seal open, and began to read the contents aloud.

_Dear Count Baurendouin de Haillenarte:_

_From this day hence, let it be known that your house will receive a stipend of ten thousand gil a month, paid from my own purse, delivered via courier._

_She will be a very young miqo'te, and I demand you give her hot tea upon her arrival._

_In exchange, you must release Cravellin from his post and allow him to become a poet, as he secretly wishes._

_As thanks for the great pleasure he has afforded me this winter, I bestow upon him the sum of one million gil._

_If he shudders at the thought, please assure him he can repay me by sending me the first edition of every book of poetry he publishes._

_Yours truly:_

_Mistress Mother, Warrior of Light._

_P.S. If I find you neglecting any of these terms, I_ _will_ _send a very large, scary man to burn down your house in the middle of the night._

_Behave._

He put down the letter to find Cravellin looking quite white, but also insufferably gleeful.

The elezen leaned over the table towards the Count and grinned.

"The emotion was _admiration._ "

-=-=-

_What are you?_ Thordan hissed one last time as Tiel gently settled her final seedling into place.

“Perfect!” she declared as she rose to her feet and planted her filthy hands on her hips.

Triumphantly she surveyed her new, leafy domain as Rolan peered around the corner of the house.

“Ready to go? The gang’s all here!” she called to the lalafell.

“Coming! Let’s do some heroics!” Tiel cheered, dropping the spade and pulling a golden soul stone from her pocket.

_Thordan, I’m someone who’ll try becoming a hero beyond your wildest expectations._

_Now do me a favor; rot in the seventh hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know there's been a lot of themes & ocs lately, and that's because i've been practicing for writing an original romance murder mystery sometime in the future, but after this chapter we're scaling back on that for stormblood.
> 
> prepare for a spicy hot road trip through doma.


	12. Hunt On: Fragile Synastry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written mostly before covid. I was in a very cheerful place; hence the excess of comedy and now I just want comfort food.  
> That's when my friend was like you know you can just...stop slow burning people straight to the end; have your cake and eat it too?  
> And I was like...u right. u right, so i'll go and uhhh speed up the burn in the next few chapters. 
> 
> please look forward to it once my brain worms activate again.

It was a bright summer afternoon in the free company yard; perfect for running through sword forms.

And Alacran was taking full advantage of it by enjoying a healthy bout with his oldest love: the striking dummy.

He was just winding up to unleash a nice Circle of Scorn when a fairy careened past him, only to crash into the cherry tree to the right of the dummy with a little tinkling _thunk._

“What in Althyk’s name-” he began, only to be drowned out by a low, furious scream.

“AAAAAH I HATE YOU I HATE YOUUU!!!”

Alacran spun around to see Tiel dashing across the yard, chasing after presumably the fairy.

He sidestepped gracefully as she ignored his presence entirely, charging within an fingers-breadth of him to reach the fairy.

With a growl, she picked it up by the _wings_ and shook it.

“You _useless, disobedient..._ good for nothing...sod this. Sod fairies. Sod scholarly artes. I _never_ understood you anyway!”

The fairy dangled limply from her fingers, looking very distressed.

She shook a finger at it.

“You better count yourself lucky that I don’t throw away my stone _entirely!_ ”

The look of horror on the fairy was frankly unforgettable as it dissipated.

She stood there panting as it faded before dropping a blue stone in the dirt and stepping on it vengefully.

“Take...that! Forget fairies. I’m going to...to go back to those glorified fortune tellers!”

Finally satisfied with her gritty vengeance, she scooped up the stone and pocketed it before turning to see Alacran standing there, gawping openly.

“Oh. Hello. Good afternoon??” she stammered out, flushing red.

Alacran raised a brow.

“Is it?”

She looked away, flushing.

“Not...exactly.”

-=-=-

Tiel smiled wanly as her ragged band of free company members and fill-ins stopped short in front of the massive metal frame of Alexander.

She fingered her shiny new planisphere thoughtfully, then turned to Vi-deo.

"I'm not sure if trying to murder this...thing is the _healthiest_ way to move on from a break up."

The xaela woman shrugged, adjusting her quiver of arrows.

"Well, we ran out of primals, and you did say you wanted to get _better_ ..." She took a moment to grimace, then went on “and ‘sides, I already did the hard part down below. I'm sure everything upstairs will be easier compared to that liquid _nightmare_!"

Tiel cast a doubtful look up at the top of the towering metal colossus, and sighed.

"Well, I guess there's only one way to find out if you're right."

-=-=-

White magic came so easily to Tiel in the past.

After the trials all those years ago of keeping a fairy materialized and behaving, of her summons fighting her every step of the way, stepping into Stillglade Fane had felt like stepping into a cool pool of power. 

The hush of the sanctum, the strangely familiar sight of people with horns seeped into her soul like a balm.

The joyful little whispers of the elementals wove their way across her sun-beaten skin, raising goose-bumps.

... _here she’s here…..lend earth….sing again….play play won’t you play…….sweet, so sweet….reunion is….here is your wind, here is your earth, here is our joy….._

It felt _so good_. Like someone was there, finally. A fairy was a silent companion, for all its annoying charms.

And the sheer power of the elements was intoxicating. For the first time since she’d fled Ul’dah in the dark of the night, she had felt _strong._

The whispers had risen to a familiar roar over the years, sliding into her consciousness and overwhelming her senses until she found herself covered in mud and rock dust at the end of battle, blinking dazedly as her foes lay around her.

It was easier with the familiar form of her trusty paladin in front of her; she had a goal then. 

Protect. Heal.

A razor thin edge over the swell of elements.

But without him, with a scattered party of unfamiliar companions and Vi-deo’s rapid fire command of battle from behind her instead of a reassuring, familiar back leading the way, holding that staff didn’t feel right.

She needed to think now. Needed to learn to lead.

Needed to learn heroism.

So she picked up a globe, and started to call on the stars.

They were sluggish, unfamiliar, but her mind was its own for once.

That was what counted.

-=-=-

Alexander was definitely a harder foe than any primal that she’d fought before.

Tiel gritted her teeth, and called on-no, _begged_ the stars for more essential dignities as Faust Z practically decimated Rolan’s defense. 

“Virus going out!” screamed the summoner from somewhere behind her.

Tiel scrabbled to cast another aspected helios, to regen- _no, aspected benefic_ -the tanks. The stars seemed too far away, too sluggish, the cards too busy, too much to think about.

_Good._

She dug deep, slipped malefics between benefics, and gradually the party dragged Faust Z to pieces. 

As their mechanized foe crashed to the floor in a hailstorm of bolts, Tiel sunk to her knees, panting.

Her cards slipped out of the planisphere and spilled on the metal floor.

Rolan sank down next to her and started to pick up her cards.

“You okay, Mother?” she asked quietly, handing the 3deck back to the lalafell.

Tiel nodded slowly as she slid the cards back into the astrolabe.

“It’s just...different from white magic-so many things going on at once! Doesn’t come natural yet!”

_And there’s no spirits keening for destruction_ she thought slowly as she followed Rolan down into Alexander’s head.

It was _quiet_.

-=-=-

Refurbisher hit like a...well, Tiel didn’t know what. A myotragus, maybe. On top of that, she had to be constantly on the move, dragging mechanical nuisances around, hiding behind rocks and healing damage dealers who didn’t know how to dodge in time. 

Her mind reeled, trying to track the flow of combat and determine her next move. It left her unconcious of her surroundings.

Dangerously so.

She let out a wretched scream as the floor suddenly turned into lava beneath her feet, searing her skin and melting her toes away as she scrabbled her way out.

Her co-healer, a lalafell like herself, knelt down and murmured reassuring words as he regened and cured her skin back from the brink. 

“Thanks, Sisifriz” Tiel gasped out as the last of the searing pain left her, and her nerves restored themselves.

The oft-silent man nodded, then extended a hand.

“Shall we?” he muttered softly.

She nodded up at him, accepting the hand.

“I’ll do my best!”

-=-=-

“Everyone, we should….nnnghk… retreat for now, I think the room is going to blow!” Vi-deo gasped, clutching her bleeding arm.

Tiel grimly benefic’d the woman, then calculated how close they were. 

It was hard to tell without the overwhelming power of the elements to guide her.

_We can’t die here._

Deep within her soul she felt the stars align, and a burbling rage seeped into her fingers, old and writhing.

Deftly, she drew a card. 

The Balance.

A smirk curved across her face. 

_Time for heroics._

“Balance going out!” she called “Everyone get in my big blue bubble or you die!!”

The party scrambled inside as she mentally ran down the list.

_Aspected Benefic should still be running on the tanks, I can leave them. We have fifteen seconds until the next attack, that’s enough time for maleficing. Which means..._

“Celestial Opposition!”

The stars came at her harsh call with a snap, shattering and extending time, the rolling tick of her regens stretched thin, just a little longer.

Mind on fire with the thrill of all the star-blessed spells rolling out at once, she sprinted in and out amidst the swings of the arms, lightspeed lending her the ability to cast back to back helios while moving.

A low chuckle burbled up in her throat as she skipped behind a rock just in time as yet another wave of magic reverberated through the room.

Vi-deo gave her a sidelong glance.

“Everything okay there?”

“Yes, I just realized… this is _fun_!!!” Tiel admitted, grinning widely.

Vi-deo shot her a sharp-eyed, understanding nod.

“Thought you’d like it.”

Rolan ran by just then as the rock shattered onto the floor.

“You… people...have a funny idea of fun!!” she yelled, then provoked the boss off the main tank.

“Can’t help it!” Tiel yelled back, shuffling away a Bole for a Spire.

_After all, what's a Warrrior of Light but a battle-loving pawn?_

-=-=-

She came home those days with sweat drenched robes and blistered fingers from shuffling cards until calluses grew in strange spots.

Alacran got in the habit of greeting the would-be raiders of Alexander’s innards with already warmed-over leftovers from lunch and a pad of paper at the ready, taking notes as Tiel healed everyone’s remaining welts and burns and regaled him with tales of their exploits.

She often laughed and called him their new house-wife, to which he fired back that technically, he was their secretary and reporter.

For their adventures made for _excellent_ writing material.

After long dinners spent recounting their heroic and not-so-heroic deeds, Tiel would stumble directly into bed and sleep like a stone.

Thankfully, the coldness of an empty bed can't bother you when you're bone tired and nearly drained of mana.

And in the early morning she would quietly read herself awake with a romance. Or two.

-=-=-

Lisa hit her growth spurt, _finally,_ and Tiel found herself making a whole new wardrobe for the growing girl- a move that Dahlia protested _heavily_.

“It is _absolutely_ fair” Tiel stated firmly as she whip-stitched the hem of a woolen skirt in place.

“Is not! Why does _she_ get the new wardrobe and I don’t?!?” Dahlia moaned as she sorted through her mail bag.

“Because-pass my tiny scissors, would you Lisa?-Dahlia, you have a job where you wear the same post-uniform all day long. Lisa, on the other hand, wears out her clothes much faster because she has to wear them more.”

“Booo! At least let me have a new summer dress?” The young post-girl batted her eyes sweetly at her tiny mother.

Tiel sighed softly, eying her up and down begrudgingly.

"Very well, I suppose you could use more accommodation in the bust...oh _Halone_. That reminds me, do you two know about the birds and the bees?"

Dahlia flushed and dropped a heavy envelope while Lisa raised her hand eagerly.

"I do! I do!"

Tiel cast a horrified look at the twelve year old.

" _You_ do?"

Lisa beamed.

"Yep! For birds, it's best to hit them in the head with your arrows! The beak is best though, it almost guarantees a one hit kill! For small swarms of bees, a Rain of Death works well, but if it's one of those big bees with the Final Sting, you better just sling as many arrows at it as possible!"

A silence reigned for several seconds.

"Wow" Dahlia whispered.

Tiel put her head in her hands.

"And to think I was thinking of sending you two to finishing school before we moved. Dahlia, get me my anatomy book from the library, third shelf from the left."

Dahlia spun to dash away from what was bound to be the most awkward moment ever witnessed in the free company kitchen.

Tiel turned to her other still so young daughter with a sigh.

“I don’t know how you managed to get this far without finding this out, _especially_ considering who your archery instructor is, but it’s time for an important lesson.”

The kitchen stayed quiet for the next few minutes until a high pitched scream arose.

“THE BABY COMES OUT OF _THERE????_ ”

-=-=-

Tiel was in Alexander’s time stop, dashing across the metallic corridors as the metal hummed and thrummed around her, waiting for time to begin to tick again...but it wasn’t _moving._

“Where’s the exit???” she tried to ask the aether, but no voice came out. Outside of the time stop, her friends were all leaping towards Alexander. 

Only she was left inside, searching, searching for the exit.

_I need to get out need to help need to fight...need._

“Tiel.” 

A familiar voice sounded all around her, overriding the thrum with its deep, comforting timbre. 

Instantly, she ground to a halt and breathed deep.

“Tiel. Wake up.”

She gasped instinctively at the sound of the voice and then time sped up, her heart came back to life and air was in her lungs.

_Alexander is dead. You killed it._

Her eyes blinked open to meet an impassive purple face.

“Ala...cran?”

The xaela huffed softly and stood up from his deep stoop over her head.

“We’re to meet up with the Scions and move to the battlefront. Raubahn wants us to play diplomat with the Ala Mhigan resistance.”  
  


He stepped back and leaned against the wall to watch as she slowly wriggled her way up in her bed like a slug, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Wait...you went to the Scion meeting already? I thought it was at tenth bell…”

The chronometer in the hall chose that moment to strike twelve.

She winced immediately and was rewarded with a low chuckle from her friend.

“I thought I’d let you sleep in for once. Figured you’d need the rest. We leave tomorrow.”

She froze.

“ _Tomorrow?_ You should have led with that! I’ll have to call a free company meeting! I’ll have to _pack!_ ”

Alacran shrugged.

“Sorry, thought it wouldn’t be too hard to throw a few things in a bag and foist Lisa off.”

Her eyebrow twitched and suddenly she was very grateful that she had an addiction to throw pillows, as she filled the next minute with using them in a manner true to their name.

“A FEW THINGS, MY _ARSE_.”

-=-=-

_Dear Ser Aymeric_

_I am on my way to parts redacted-no, mysterious to fight against Garlemald along with Scions._

_Something tells me we will be on a long, long journey._

_Our next tea-time together will have to wait._

_Please accept this gift to tide you over until then._

_Mother._

_P.S._

_I intend to return alive, fear not._

Aymeric set the letter down, then drew the box across the desk towards himself.

He lifted the lid to reveal a delicate fig bavarois and a container of tea sachets.

Softly, Aymeric lifted a sachet to his nose and sniffed.

“Chamomile and...nasturtium?”

He set it down with a smile, then frowned.

“Lucia, how did this arrive?”

His right-hand woman frowned as well.

“Nobody can tell me. Somehow it was just _there_ this morning.”

“Hnn” Aymeric hummed, then picked up a letter-opener and eyed the bavarois.

Lucia coughed.

“Shall I get a knife?”

“Hn? Oh. Perhaps that might be wise.”

-=-=-

The sun was shining down heavily on the free company house, and the anticipation of _skirmish_ and _adventure_ was crawling under Alacran’s skin as he packed up his few essentials and checked his blade’s sharpness.

“Half a bell ‘till we have to head to the wall, Tiel.”

“Mhmm...huhu, going on an adventuuuure” sang Tiel blithely as she threw a dizzying array of last minute items in her rucksack across the room.

Alacran wrinkled his nose at her.

“Freeing Ala Mhigo isn’t precisely an adventure so much as a high-stakes mission, you know.”

She grinned at him as she slung her pickaxe in the bag with reckless glee.

“Sure! But I fully intend to enjoy the ride!...Alright, that should be enough supplies for now.”

Alacran generously ignored just how many crafting implements he’d just seen her throw in, and sheathed his sword.

“Let’s head to the battlefront, then.”

The free company was waiting outside the house; the older members tensely checking swords and holstering guns. 

The children shuffled nervously-Lisa edging nearer to Vi-deo as she clenched her bow. Dahlia looked solemn, sheathing and unsheathing her knives and patting down her empty mail-bag.

Tiel quietly smiled at the sight.

“Thank you all for the escort. If it all goes well with the resistance, we’ll send for anyone who wishes to come help. Now Lisa, if that happens, _stick with Vi-deo._

And Dahlia? Be very careful running messages out there.”

The two girls nodded solemnly, their faces too solemn for children of their age.

Tiel looked around one last time and grinned.

“To Gridania!”

-=-=-

There was a sharpness around Tiel now, Alacran reflected as he ran towards a Leshy to pull it off of her.

It showed in the way her malefics landed precisely, with no pause. How there would be a heal at precisely the right time, rather than _slightly_ late and _slightly_ dangerous.

He vaguely missed the excitement of trusting her terrifying methods of leaving him with a regen and nothing more to shore his defense.

As he dodged a particularly deep swing of the walking tree’s arm, he caught sight of her focused face out the corner of his eye. 

Her eyebrows were furrowed as she flipped through her deck and instead of the shit-eating grin he was used to seeing as she unleashed a torrent of Holies, only a cold sort of smile lit up her face as she let loose a slew of Gravities.

After the last of the monsters in their path crumpled, he fell in step with Tiel behind the pack of Scions as they pressed on towards the hidden headquarters.

Slowly he picked over his words, trying to make it sound casual.

"So. Why become an astrologian anyway? I held off on commenting while you fought Alexander-after all, it was strange about time, so I figured they were related... But it's just _us_ now, right?"

_Just a normal, nice adventure._

She sighed and shuffled a Bole back into her deck.

“It...astrology lets me think. Plan. Be responsible”

“And white magic didn’t?” he questioned.

“Not...not in the same way. Your thoughts get a little murky” she sighed.

Alacran shrugged.

“I don’t mind. I can just lead the way like always. ‘S my job.”

Softly she shook her head.

“I’m...I want to change. Be stronger."

He fell silent, because he would be all kinds of arsehole to tell her she shouldn't bother with it, to let him take care of things.

_Save that kind of thing for your trashy novels, idiot_ he chided himself.

Tiel skipped over a stone on the dusty road with a little giggle, then whirled around to face him, hands on her hips.

"Alacran, what does it mean to be a hero anyway? Capable of winning the day singlehandedly, right? So isn't my getting stronger what Hydaelyn would want?"

He stared down at her, pretending to be grave.

"I don't pay attention to what that big lump of crystal wants. I just do whatever I think is good to whatever's in front of me...er...that is...aaagh" He began to pace around her, searching for the words as she held still and laughed at his wordless plight.

He stopped at last and raked a hand through the sweaty strands of hair that were clinging to his forehead.

"Look Tiel, even before I knew you well, you already helped people for no reason. That's all you need to do."

"That may not work. We're entering a battlefront. Why be so desperate to cling to the past?" She asked as she drew another card. Balance.

"I…" he began, then fell silent.

_I don't want things to change. Not after finally getting another adventure together_.

He knew it was short sighted, selfish. But Althyk take him, he was a selfish man.

"Gods, would you two hurry up!!?" Lyse called from up ahead.

"Comiiing!" Tiel yelled back.

“Come on, Alacran. We’ll have time enough to debate this later!”

He followed slowly.

-=-=-

The Resistance had accepted Alacran and Tiel into their ranks and then promptly divided them up to do petty tasks.

Typical.

“So much for an adventure together” Alacran growled under his breath, unsheathing his sword as Grynewaht’s posse approached.

Alisae rolled her eyes at him and plunged forward to land a hit on a legatus.

“Less complaining, more slicing! C’mon, show me some of your new moves!”

“Yeah, yeah.” he sighed, striding forward. A slow grin spread across his face despite himself as he noticed the absolute swarm of magitek weapons approaching from the rear.

Nothing like smashing machines that you understand jack shite about when you’re pissed.

-=-=-

“Chapuli and hornbill, huh?” Tiel asked, running a thumb over Griseldis’s trembling hand.

“It...helps with the pain” the woman quietly sighed.

Tiel quietly observed the way the woman withdrew into herself, the haunted look in her eyes.

_If this were Ishgard, I could at least take her to the wards and see if her leg could be rebroken. But here… there's nothing._

She clenched her free hand tightly, fingernails driving into her palm.

_Sod Garlemald. If you leave people with no medical resources and extract every pound of flesh... I don't care what your eikon policies are; you deserve to perish._

Slowly she let go of the woman's hand and straightened up.

“Alright! Consider it done.”

Griseldis snorted.

“Sure.”

TIel locked eyes with her.

“It will be done. I’m a healer _and_ an alchemist. Just wait!”

  
  


It took a good deal of fighting with the local wildlife and some swearing when she realized she hadn’t packed spare potion bottles, but eventually Tiel returned triumphant.

“This should take care of the pain for a while… but I recommend that for the rest of your...pain that you find a drinking buddy. It helps when you talk about...things. Pick someone you trust.”

Griseldis’s eyes narrowed.

“What do _you_ know about me?”

Tiel fidgeted under her hard gaze.

“Not... everything. But some bit of it.”

Griseldis shrank away from the tiny healer, clutching the hard won potion.

Tiel sighed and stepped back, sensing her patient’s reluctance.

"For the record, even if I wasn't part of the Resistance, I'd want to take up arms against the Empire after hearing your story. I'll see if I can wreak some vengeance. When you hear of war, I'll be in it."

She left in a flurry of dust-coated skirts, a little ember of rage burning deep within.

Griseldis stared at her dusty wake, then raised her bottle of liquor.

"That at least I can toast."

-=-=-

Sometimes Hyadaelyn's champion was said to be a baleful paladin with a merciless, gleaming sword.

Other times, rumors of a tiny, vicious white mage hurling missiles of rock wafted into Garlemald on the wind of war.

Zenos checked his blades one last time, then sheathed them in place.

"What think you, Asahi? Will the vaunted hero of the Scions prove a worthy opponent?" Zenos asked, checking his belts were secure.

"None can measure up to you, my lord!” the man eagerly offered.

"That is _precisely_ what I don't want" Zenos bit out, rolling his neck.

Asahi fell silent, for he could never conceive of the idea that his master could _struggle_ in battle.

The silence stretched out; an interminably annoying moment, one that Zenos filled with the amusing daydream of severing Asahi's head from his body.

It finally fell to Zenos to continue the conversation, lest nothing get done.

"What manner of person is the Warrior of Light?"

Asahi took a moment to think.

"Doubtless a good match, but surely you will tri-"

"-Are they man or woman, mage or paladin?"

Asahi's eyes narrowed, a glint of something feral crawling up from his polite, ingratiating depths.

Zenos breathed a little easier to see it, relieved that some measure of a match was yet to be had.

Oh yes, he knew the little rat of a man well.

"My lord, there are two beings said to be the Warrior of Light, both using the title in their exploits."

Zenos turned.

"Two seperate agents?"

Asahi bowed lower.

"In the past, yes, but now they go almost always together. The 'real' warrior cannot be discerned."

Zenos let a real smile break upon his face, a wide, scarlet dawn.

"Which is the chosen one, hmm? An amusing game. One will doubtless be weaker, then."

"Aye, my lord"

Zenos no longer looked at Asahi, his icy eyes focusing on the promise of distant confrontation.

"Come. We move at eventide."

Asahi scrambled to follow in Zenos’s footsteps as the prince let loose a feral smirk.

"Let the sport of kings begin."

-=-=-

The Scions and Warriors of Light were to be on a daring mission against the Garlean outpost- until the sky lit up above the Reach with _fire._

Alacran spun around when he saw it, feet moving before his mind even caught up.

Tiel followed hot at his heels as they burst into the Reach to meet a scene of chaos.

Fleeing resistance members with ugly wounds trickled past them as garlean soldiers followed in pursuit.

Two packs of soldiers were headed straight towards them.

"I have the left, you the right?" Tiel called as she royal roaded in preparation.

"On it!" Alacran called, and raised his blade and shield.

He soon lost himself in the rhythm of battle, slicing down enemies left and right.

He vaguely caught sight of Tiel from time to time out to his far left as she unleashed a storm of spells and occasionally leant him a heal when he got in range.

They made good progress deeper into the reach...until a woman who could only be Fordola crossed Alacran’s path.

"Well, well. A rescue party, is it? We’ll see about that." she called out, then immediately leapt towards him, closing the gap between them with an elegant plunge.

She hit home on his shield with a ringing clang of her scimitar and it took a good deal of his strength to push her back.

“You must be Fordola.” Alacran grunted.

“And you must be yet another of Resistance’s little hounds!” she offered back as she plunged forward yet again, teeth bared and glinting under the moonlight.

Something in his heart quickened at her powerful swings as she pressed him back with her assault.

She, presuming he was on the back foot, leapt forward for a decisive strike- only to clash against his swiftly raised shield.

As the sound of steel rang out, he side stepped and whirled with his blade rising high...only to lock swords with her at the last moment.

Fordola gave him a growl that frankly should not have been as attractive as he found it. 

Her lips curled back to reveal teeth and raw will power and her hair fell wildly around her glinting eyes as she glared at him.

It was a pretty, _threatening_ picture.

"Finally, this is getting interesting" she snarled, leaping backwards.

They traded blows in a deadly dance that left his blood running hot with the thrill of battle. 

Finally, he forced her back with several well-placed blows, and stood heaving heavy breaths as she clenched her bloodied arm.

"Gah! Who in the seven hells are you!?" She yelped, the fire in her eyes not at all abated.

"Just...the Resistance's new dog…" he chuckled between gasps, taunting her with a smirk.

The woman practically snarled at him, which only made his smile grow.

Sue him, it was fun to play the arsehole sometimes.

He cast about even as he taunted her, eyes searching for his tiniest ally...

Ah. 

Off in the distance, he could see Tiel running up to a kneeling Lyse and a fallen body...Yshtola???

Without further thought, he left Fordola behind and followed his astrologian in hot pursuit. Krile and Alphinaud also appeared out of the fray and arrived at the scene on his heels.

Tiel was already bent over the bloodied form of Yshtola, cleansing the wound and applying regens.

"Krile, Alphy, over here!" she yelled, not even looking up.

Somehow Alacran's brain caught on the loose lipped _Alphy_ and stuttered to a halt because _when did that happen._ ..just as a _presence_ crept into his awareness.

He whirled around to see a massive Garlean approaching with heavy, measured steps.

Instinctively, Alacran placed himself in front of the cluster of healers and drew his sword.

Fordola drew near in pursuit, dripping blood as she came.

"My lord, the prisoners!" she yelled.

_Lord. Zenos, then._

Alacran settled himself deep into the familiar protective stance, sensing _trouble._

"See to your men, Pilus" Zenos instructed the woman.

Alacran watched with a little disappointment as she went. 

_Hopefully we can cross swords again-_

Zenos sadly interrupted that train of thought as he advanced again.

“Your friends were a disappointment. But you… You will entertain me, will you not?”

"You think this is a _game,_ you damned monster??!" Alacran yelled, then raised his shield.

Alisae and Pipin appeared out of the fray, dashing up to his side.

"If we kill him, here and now, we can end this!" Alisae called, raising her rapier.

Before Alacran could respond, the air _shifted._

"I have no need for this rabble." Zenos declared, and cast a spell that knocked everyone to the ground.

It laced through Alacran like red hot fire, but he withstood.

_Nidhogg hurt worse_.

Zenos surveyed at the lone paladin bracing himself in the wake of his spell with a thirsty glee.

"Hm. You yet stand. Mayhap you have potential…"

In a moment the prince closed the distance between them and pressed _hard_ against Alacran's sword, leaning in with a smirk.

Alacran withstood the awe-inducing force of the press with a grunt, and shakily pressed back.

The garlean gave a little huff of _contentment_ and stepped back thoughtfully.

"I've heard tales of you, paladin. A great hunter, one unknits sinews of monsters with stirring ease… Come, unleash your furor."

Zenos lunged again, with just as much brutal force. Alacran barely deflected the blow, and could only land a glancing strike of his own.

Alacran backstopped, out of range and lifted his shield back into place, panting.

"Better…but lacking nevertheless…" 

Zenos sighed, then raised his blade.

“I wonder…. Could a defender become a hunter?” He leapt forward, unleashing a sword arte in his wake, one that left lightning orbs all around.

One orb exploded, and lightning laced its way up the xaela's legs and set his nerves on fire. Zenos used the opportunity to land a heavy hit against his sword arm, one that left a trickle of blood where the armor had caved with the force of the blow.

“Not sodding likely. I’m not like _you._ ” Alacran gasped out, even as his arm muscles shuddered at the impact. 

The prince only laughed.

"I _will_ see who you really are. So sharpen your fangs, dullard. Come at me with aught less than a sword sharpened with desire for my blood and you will perish."

Zenos flicked the blood off his blade and reslung the hilt in his hand with obvious thirst.

Alacran nearly shuddered at the display of wanton bloodlust and braced himself for 

the next blow. His vision almost flashed blue, but he grit his teeth against it-

"BACK OFF, BASTARD!!" screamed a low, raging voice and suddenly a piercing, nebulous malefic slammed into the prince's side, knocking him sideways, ever so slightly.

"Ahhh, now _there_ is thirst” Zenos sickeningly groaned as he righted himself.

Tiel ran up to Alacran's side, astrolabe whirling 'round her fingers as she drew a card. 

Challenge sizzling in her eyes, she glared the garlean down.

"The elementals were _crying,_ saying a tainted man walks the earth....and what do I find, but a fetid _beast_ on the prowl. You must be Zenos."

Zenos plunged forward towards his new prey without preamble. 

"Oh no, you do _not_ " Alacran roared and leapt in front of his reckless companion, stopping Zenos in his tracks, though the force of the prince’s plunge sent skidding him back along the earth.

Tiel called some spells he couldn't quite catch over the screech and ring of metal, and then the caress of Aspected Benefic and Bole settle on him like a blanket.

"Round two, bastard!" Alacran smirked, confident now that his healer was in the fray.

Zenos grinned wordlessly, and pulled back for another brutal blow.

They met with a ring of steel as the battle cries echoed out across the Reach.

Five blows, then seven they traded while Tiel deftly snuck in malefics from afar in between well-timed benefics.

Fourteen blows, nine guards, several regens, three more blessedly relieving heals...and yet for all his healer's help Alacran's strength was draining.

The prince seemed to have a vicious sense for every weakness, every sore joint and tired muscle and relentlessly attacked him where it hurt.

At last, he drove Alacran back with a vicious unleashing of a unfamiliar spell and a backswing that knocked the paladin off kilter and sent him to his knees.

"It would seem I misjudged you. This ends now."

Zenos sighed at the sight of his opponent felled and raised his sword as he stepped towards Alacran.

Alacran struggled to stand up in vain, even as he felt Tiel's healing spells soak into him from afar.

“Pathetic…" Zenos stated and raised his sword aloft…

Only for Gravity to envelop his arm entirely, dragging it earth-ward. 

It only lasted a moment, but in that second of time, the sword _snapped._

The prince dropped the shattered sword and stood still a moment, then silently walked away.

Alacran watched through his exhaustion, begging him not to target Tiel, but evidently the man's whims had changed.

The xaela fell back into the dirt with exhaustion and stared up at the smoke-filled night sky.

_I'll get him. Somehow._

-=-=-

Tiel approached Alacran as Raubahn stooped over the paladin, lending him a hand up.

"You alright, lad?" The giant man asked.

Alacran nodded, though his face was drained to a pale lavender.

"Well enough. Next time, he pays." he stated around a grimace brought on by moving his injured arm.

Tiel sighed, because that was so _typical_ and drew out her astrolabe with shaky hands as she drew up beside her companion.

"Alacran… I'm so glad you're alive" she began before anything else.

The man squatted down next to her with a strange look.

"Of course I am." He stated as he unbuckled his pauldron.

"It's not an 'of course I am' matter!" She burst out, even as she pulled his injured arm into examining range and began to Esuna the nasty looking wound.

"Alacran, I'm sorry… if only I could have done more... but Y'shtola was bleeding out even while you were taking blows and I had to direct my attentions to two targets at once and-"

Her eyes blurred and salty tears began to drip onto the glass of her spectacles.

A rough, scaly hand descended upon her hand and ruffled her sweaty hair. 

"Hey.. hey it's fine. We're alive. You're good." Alacran assured her and presented his still bleeding arm for her consideration.

"Worry about this if you insist on worrying."

"Oh! Yes. Of course."

She renewed her healing efforts with a small smile.

_You never know how to handle my tears, huh_.

"I'm still sorry though" she piped up as she closed up the wound carefully.

Alacran sighed.

"Why? It's battle and I technically told you to just heal whatever is in front of you"

She bit her lip.

"I… talked a big talk about getting stronger, fighting smarter and then when it came down to it, I couldn't handle healing two complex situations at the same time."

Alacran shifted back on his heels and flexed his restored arm contemplatively.

"I should have taken your words more seriously too. The moment I crossed swords with that bastard I realized all my own strength might not be enough… I should have realized I have to change too."

Tiel couldn't help the warm smile that broke out on her face.

She laid a warm hand on his.

"Then let's get stronger together from now on. As long as we don't let eachother die, someday we'll be strong enough to kill him, too."

Alacran wrinkled his nose.

"I can't tell if that's optimistic or nihilistic"

"Aren't they hand in hand?" she grinned, then slung her astrolabe on her back.

"Come on, partner. Let's go!"

-=-=-

“We take the fight to Doma.”

It had been a well meant proposal on Alacran's part, despite his lack of experience in diplomacy. 

As it turned out those were also famous last words, as the path to Doma turned out to be far more complex than anyone had reckoned. 

However, thanks to Tataru's surprising ability to blackmail any man who walked the earth, everyone found themselves on a ship bound for Kugane in due time.

Alacran tried not to dwell on the fact that the Captain Carvallain's name was spelt almost the same way as Cravellin, and judging by the look on Tiel’s face she too was trying to ignore the coincidence.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asked, settling down next to her on a bench in the hold.

"What do you mean?" 

He gestured in the general direction of the ship's hull.

"It's the ocean out there."

"Oh. Well, as long as we don't sink I can usually distract myself as to the nature of what lies just outside the planks. I just don't dwell on it. Much.”

Still, she clutched her deck of cards with white knuckles.

He sighed and patted her on the shoulder.

“If we run into a kraken, I promise I’ll cut all its tentacles off.”

"Much obliged" she grinned weakly.

Thankfully, the Sirensong Sea-despite being filled with goopy sea monsters- was more inclined to encounters of the more ghostly kind and somehow that was far more palatable to Tiel's taste than a kraken would have been.

"All in a day's work!" she cheered as the final siren fell.

"Mm. Another dungeon well-cleared." Alacran called out as he sheathed his sword.

Tiel wrinkled her nose.

"That's a _terrible_ catchphrase."

"Make your own then" he laughed, and tossed her the hat from the treasure chest with an ease borne of long years of experience.

She caught it close to her chest then shrieked and dropped it on the wet floor.

"It's covered in _siren goop_ !!! Why didn't you _warn me???_ "

"Didn't feel it-I wear armor with respectable coverage, after all." He taunted, gesturing at her frankly appalling lack of protection; a wrap top and skirt that had been gleaned from her infernal Wolves’ Den.

She folded her arms against her bared stomach and glared.

"We are _not_ doing the 'plate armor is the best armor' discussion again!!"

"You know it to be true..." he teased as he led the way back to the boat.

"Is not! Do you really think I'd wear a _tin can_ when I need to kneel down over gaping wounds all day???"

"If you did, you wouldn't have to feel _goop_ all over your unnecessarily bare stomach-"

"It is _perfectly_ culturally acceptable to show my stomach-in case you forgot, I come from _Ul'dah._ I _know_ you've been on Ruby Avenue!"

"So I have, but that's not the point! The point is if you leave it exposed, anything could _touch it._ " he countered, and gestured meaningfully at the expanse of bare skin in question. 

The skin that now that he was looking at it he was definitely wondering how it felt.

Surely it would be taut, since she spent all day walking, yelling and hoisting astrolabes.

Tiel carefully covered it with her arms and shrank back.

"If you even _dare_ think of tickling me I will get my paring knife out and pry off your fingernails!"

Alacran couldn't stop the sudden twitch at the corner of his mouth because that was definitely not what he'd been thinking _at all._

"Noted" he sighed, and retreated before his sudden interest in nut brown stomachs became too powerful.

Because they were definitely just friends.

_Yep. Friends worry about protecting vital organs._

-=-=-

Kugane was _massive,_ from the very first view of its towering buildings, to the buzz and hum of the streets; lively despite the threat of Garlemald hanging over the residents-though perhaps all of Eorzea was hanging on that particular edge.

They entered the city through a towering gate house and Tiel immediately spotted an aetheryte just beyond, darting away from the party to attune as her eyes glittered with delight.

Alacran sighed fondly and followed behind, laughing at the little dance she always seemed to do with each new attunement.

“More for the list!” she cheered, casting about for shards eagerly.

A soft chuckle came from a blonde passerby at the sight.

“My. I did not expect the Scions to be quite so joyful”

Alacran shifted closer to Tiel immediately, sensing smarm.

-=-=-

Within a minute of meeting Hancock, Alacran had decided that he did not like the cut of his jib.

The smarminess that rolled off the hyur’s tongue reminded him of the feeling he used to get around lalafell; the garish addiction to polite words that masked steely greed.

Alphinaud also seemed disinclined to trust the trader and Alacran felt a gentle swell of camaraderie in his heart for the lad.

However, Tataru seemed to be greatly in her element, a matter that might have concerned Alacran more if he had not noticed a familiar, terrifying glint in Tiel’s eyes.

The kind of glint that had been the precursor to him ending up in tight red pants, once upon a time.

He bided his time broodingly until the party concluded their private meeting with the trader and began to split up to begin work.

Once Lyse split off from Tiel and him to go question ship owners, he shot a hand out to clamp down on the top of Tiel’s head.

With a tiny yelp she stopped dead in her tracks.

"What is it??"

He bent down and hissed in her ear.

"Please tell me you're not planning on hosting another party, this time with Hancock. I saw _that_ glint in your eye during the meeting."

She blinked confusedly, then giggled.

"Oh no, I don't think he's the dancing type! Don't worry, I won't have any more madcap schemes-"

"I highly doubt that" he cut in. 

She glared.

"-as I was saying, no more madcap schemes involving charity balls. No, I was just thinking of the worth of real estate around here, considering how much trade flows through the area. It might be best to commiserate with him on that matter! That's _all_ I swear I was thinking."

"Hmm..." he cynically mused for her benefit, keeping her wriggling under his fingers.

"Please just trust me…" she eventually groaned, ducking down with one smooth plunge through the knees to escape his grasp.

“I do.” he grumbled, and fell into step behind her.

-=-=-

You get to know a person after so many years on the road with them.

Tiel could sense it, the shift in Alacran's attitude as the scents of the alley markets wafted up to them, the subtle way his step slowed and his breaths became deeper as he sorted through the smells.

Someone was hungry.

"Dango, you think?" she called over her shoulder.

"Huh?" he called back. His head was pointed to her, but his eyes were looking at the soba stand to their left.

She stifled a smirk.

"Shall we eat some dango? Call it market research?" 

He looked unimpressed, as if he had immediately caught onto her ruse-well, he probably had.

Still, he followed her willingly to the dango stall.

There were _so many_ types; Kugane was clearly the absolute best place for trade if this was what a lowly dango stand was like, never mind the textile merchants that awaited her later on.

“You look like a child in a candy shop” Alacran chided from afar.

“Every food market is a candy shop to me! After all, I’m a master culinarian!” she laughed, and bent over the stall’s selection of dango to sniff the wares.

“Hm, I think anko, kuri and… Alacran, what do you want?”

His familiar shadow enveloped her as he bent over the rack of dango to inspect them, drawing back slightly when the stall owner backed away from him warily.

“The savory smelling one” he grunted, then fell back again.

Tiel beamed, because he was absolutely _predictable,_ then held up five fingers to the owner.

“Three mitarashi dango, one anko and one kuri please.”

The woman hurriedly accepted her gil and handed over the sticks of dango with a wary glance upwards.

Tiel smiled reassuringly at her.

“I assure you, he doesn’t bite.”

“...much…” muttered her companion from afar.

She locked the smile on.

“Even when he’s in a mood.”

Somehow, the woman didn’t seem to believe her.

Some people were lost causes, so the lalafell collected her dango and trotted over to her paladin.

“Thanks. How much was it?” Alacran, accepting the sticks.

“Free to a good home!” she responded absentmindedly as she looked around the marketplace for a bench.

“...no, really. How much?” he asked, falling in step behind her again.

“It’s my treat-oh, how about that bench over there?”

“You make me food all the time-at least let me pay for this!” he shot back as he crankily clanked up behind her.

"Nu-uh, I'm the rich one here" she laughed, heading bench-ward.

Alacran sighed one of his "I am so long-suffering" sighs, and then overtook her, clanking past at high speed to plop down with a clatter on the little bench, legs spread wide.

Tiel followed hesitantly, eying the remaining space on the bench.

It was a little too narrow for her, but the other benches were too far away.

"Here." The xaela pulled several gil out of some discreet pocket and brandished them meaningfully.

She frowned.

"Not taking your gil. Would you please move aside so I can sit?"

He locked eyes with her; glimmering yellow rings to murky grey orbs. 

“Take it.”

“No.”

They continued their stare-down for another few seconds until Tiel sighed and gave up. Before Alacran could realize what was happening, she had gracefully sunk down onto his lap.

“Hate you” he hissed into her hair.

“Eat your dango before it goes cold” she primly responded, dragging her own off the stick with relish.

He grumbled but succumbed to the allure of savory balls after a moment.

_Yet again your solution to problems is to sit on him_...her traitorous mind reminded her.

_Nope. This is platonic, revengeful lap sitting._

_Yup. Ignore the vapors you had in a bathtub once._

She found a new, more productive train of thought in the passerby's attire.

“Oooo, Alacran! Look at those yukatas over there-I love the deep purple on that one!”

“They look...light” he grudgingly assessed.

“It’s _called_ breezy summer fashion-ooo, that mossy green one would look a treat on you!”

He shifted uneasily at the subtle threat of being made fashionable, moving one thick thigh to cross it over the other before seeming to remember she was planted firmly between his legs.

“Tiel, you’re not dressing me up again. Last time I looked like… a cherry on legs.”

“Oh come now, you were at least a _dashing_ cherry” she giggled, then stuffed her mouth with more dango before she managed to enrage him.

All too soon the dango were gone and Alacran was shifting uneasily.

“Shouldn’t we be questioning those ship captains?”

Tiel sighed and tipped her head back against his plated chest.

“So eager to be on the move already? We’ve barely been in town three hours.”

He frowned down at her.

“Ships are too...cooped up.”

She sighed.

“Two more minutes, then we go” she acquiesced, poking him with her cleaned off stick.

“After all, I’m still trying to regain my land legs!”

Alacran wrinkled his nose, but settled back down as Tiel for her part drifted off into thought.

“...hope the kids are ok.” she murmured.

“I’m sure they’re fine. They have good heads on their shoulders. And decent mentors.”

She wriggled uncomfortably.

“I know...I just feel guilty for enjoying myself away from them.”

“Gotta take a break sometimes, Tiel. Even if your timing is _questionable_.”

“...the free company too. I hope they’re managing without me.”

Alacran sighed.

“We can always teleport back once we finish our mission.”

“Hah! True enough. Although, you better let me pay the fees.”

The xaela let out a snort. 

“Absolutely not.”

Tiel laughed. 

“Ah, the joys of travelling and heroics. Constant bickering.”

She sobered and leaned back against him again as their last minute of rest sped by. A soft smile crept onto her face out of Alacran’s sight.

Somehow the reason why she had always enjoyed the road so much had completely escaped her, until this moment.

Until she was nestled in Alacran's lap, wedged between two steel-plated legs, poking him under the chin scales with her dango stick.

_It's this._

_Best part of heroics: the hero._

“...Minute’s up, Tiel.”

She stretched luxuriously.

“Alright. Let’s go secure ourselves some passage!”


	13. Hunt On: Fragile Synastry Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> writing zenos more like taking five hundred screenshots of dialogue and trying to approximate the speech pattern.  
> one has to almost just write a zenos-ism generator-same thing for every npc in this game haha how do people do this.  
> anyway time to up the "subtle" thirst.

After some hairy escapades involving fleeing city guards and meeting two new types of beastmen-one of which reminded Alacran of lalafells but _fishy_ and the other being turtles but _fast_ and clever turtles-the ramshackle party found themselves on the docks at the edge of the Ruby Sea.

Lyse made a sporting leap into the water and Alacran followed suit, albeit with a touch more reticence considering the amount of metal he was wearing… only to realize his white mage-no, astrologian-was not behind him.

He turned around in the water with some difficulty to see her still standing on the docks, looking rather white for a dunesfolk.

“Shite. Ocean, right?” he called while digging his feet into the sandy shallows with some relish.

“Ocean” she grit out, then sighed and began to unwrap her skirts from her waist. 

Alacran awkwardly closed his eyes after realizing that he probably shouldn’t be looking, only for her to laugh. 

“I’m wearing thavnairian tights underneath. It’s pretty close to a bikini, so don’t worry.”

_Well, if you say so_ he thought and quietly watched as she divested herself of her poofy skirt thing to reveal that her golden ribbon leg wraps actually went nearly all the way up her nut-brown thighs, like the most pointless thigh highs he’d ever seen. But they drew the eye all the way up to the tiny, _tiny_ silk bottoms and suddenly he was very glad he was in the water already.

“Right. Here I go!” Tiel called, then took a deep breath and _leapt._

And then immediately landed the least sexy belly flop in the universe.

He couldn’t help it. A deep, loud laugh ripped its way out of his lungs as she surfaced, squawking in pain.

Lyse splashed over in consternation.

“Gods, what’s going on?? Alacran, are you _quite_ sane?? Mother, are you alright???”   
  


“Just...need a minute” Tiel groaned, rolling over onto her back to float with surprising ease.

She glared at Alacran’s raised eyebrow as he continued to chuckle.

“For the record, you two, I _can_ swim, I just hate the ocean and I _hate_ diving. I swear, if we have to go underwater at any point I will lose my mind!”

“Noted” Lyse sighed, folding her arms “Now come along, you two, we have diplomacy to do!”

-=-=-

“Somehow diplomacy always comes down to doing menial errands, doesn’t it?” Tiel sighed.

“Story of our lives” Alacran grunted, swinging at yet another washed-up sea monster.

“Let’s just hope it won’t end up a terribly complicated affair?” 

Alacran winced.

“You’ve jinxed it.”

-=-=-

She had.

-=-=-

“This is going rather deep for a sea cave” Tiel muttered mournfully.

"If the ocean suddenly burbles up out of the depths at high tide, I promise I will laugh as you shriek" Alacran murmured back as Alisae kept up her brisk pace ahead of the party.

“Oh, I think I see light ahead!" the young elezen called back to everyone.

Together, the party strolled through a tall gateway, then stopped in shock.

“We, uh...appear to be standing inside a giant bubble. By the Twelve...I think we’re on the seabed!” Alisae exclaimed as Tiel turned _very pale_.

"I… surely you don't need me, Alisae. I'll just go back up and...guard the entrance!"

Tiel brightly exclaimed and moved to walk back before Alacran caught hold of her blonde ponytail.

The lalafell shuddered to a halt.

"Alacran, unhand me."

"I seem to recall someone saying that we should get _stronger together…_ " Alacran began, _greatly_ enjoying the look of dread creeping across her face.

"...don't you think that that would entail getting _mentally_ stronger as well? What if the Garlean prince challenges us to a duel under the sea??"

"Ooh, that sounds fun!" Lyse piped up.

Tiel sent the blonde woman a death glare, but slowly sighed.

" _Fine._ But if I have to _swim, so help me._ "

-=-=-

"We have to swim. Ohhh, Halone preserve me" Tiel sighed, clutching her head in her hands.

Lyse seemed to miss the lalafell's moans as she was brightly observing the ocean depths instead.

“I can swim well enough. How about you, Alisae?”

Alisae, who seemed to have adopted the tactic of ignoring every one of Tiel's complaints just as she did her brother's, ignored Tiel's remark entirely.

“Oh, like a fish. In contrast to my doggy-paddling brother."

Oh, Alacran was having a _fantastic time._

-=-=-

"Relax, Tiel. You're not going to drown. Just breathe. Pretend you're a mermaid or something."

"Easy for you to say, you...you ocean...fiend!!" the lalafell burst out, flailing in place. 

The concept of treading water underwater was not quite setting in.

"You alright over there? The mantas are ready!" Lyse called.

"We're just...fine…" Alacran called back through the bubbles while trying to hold Tiel back from going back to Tamamizu.

" _Stop kicking like that or I swear I'll fling you over my shoulder like a sack of popotos!"_ He hissed; as quietly as one can hiss underwater.

"I am _not riding a sea creature!!_ " Tiel hissed back as she wildly thrashed against him.

He sighed and caught hold of her feet.

"Then ride mine."

She tensed... and then deflated.

"Fine. But I'm not looking at it, not for all the gil in the world."

"Where do you plan on looking, then?" he dryly asked as he dragged her through the water towards the manta ray.

"Your dumb face, I guess."

He ignored the weird stomach flip at the spiteful statement, as well as Soroban's strangely probing look as he settled her into his lap astride the manta ray.

With a nod to the ray's handler, they were off into the ocean depths. Despite the lalafellian shrieks.

-=-=-

Their quest had led them to Sui-no-sato, a town that Alacran found quite charming, even if the reception was cold.

Tiel, on the other hand, seemed put out by the fact that the village had decided to build itself _underwater_ to enjoy herself much, though she _had_ stopped shrieking-instead settling for wandering quietly behind everyone looking very pale.

Alacran ignored the urge to bend down and hold her hand like she was some tiny scared child. His kneecaps would surely suffer if he followed _that_ instinct.

Instead, he briskly took over inquiries after the Yasakani-no-Magatama along with Alisae and soon they found their main quest diverted by a request to save some Ruby Princess.

"Alisae and I will search with the lamp then while you two go off and do the heroic princess saving! Perhaps it will make Shiosai more inclined to help us if the lamp fails.” Lyse cheered.

"Sounds like a plan" Alacran nodded. He cast a glance over to his astrologian.

"Let's go, Tiel." 

"I suppose a palace will be fun to see…" Tiel muttered.

-=-=-

Tiel looked positively pale, even for being underwater.

"You failed to mention it was...are we really going to...go in there?" she shuddered, pointing at the yawning abyss stretching out just beyond them.

"That's where they said the palace is” Alacran shot back.

Her brows furrowed.

"Yes, but...it's so _dark_ and _deep,_ can it really be true?"

He sighed, and shrugged as best he could while swimming. 

"I don't think people begging for help would lead us astray. You're being ridiculo-"

She let out a sudden scream and lunged towards him, wrapping her arms around his chest and knocking the wind out of him with the force of her attack.

"Wha-" he gasped.

She shuddered and clung to him even tighter.

"Shark. Shark, right above us. We're going to dieeee.."

He cast a wary glance upwards, to see a fairly large shark, _minding its own business_ , passing overhead.

Slowly he sighed, and tried to de-tangle himself from her clutching little fingers.

_Limpet._

"It's fine, Tiel. It's not interested in us. And besides, you've killed...how many primals? Can't you just...kill it like those if it really does turn on you?"

She shivered, and pressed back against him. 

“Can’t cast well down here. I don’t stand a chance, and the _teeth_ …”

“Then get your chocobo out and flee since you hate mantas.”

“Meredy doesn’t like water either. Like owner, like bird” she sighed defeatedly.

He pressed his forehead into his palm in exasperation, then straightened up.

“Alright. I’ve got an amber draught chocobo whistle somewhere, hold on.”

He wriggled partway out of her clutches and flipped through his tiny collection of whistles, ignoring her slightly smug look as she clung to him.

“Shut up. I can hear you gloating from here about how many more you have.”

She wrinkled her nose as his fingers finally touched the very bottom whistle.

“Aha.”

He blew it, and soon they were both seated on a ruby-colored bird, one who thankfully shared Alacran’s temperament of being utterly fine with the ocean.

“Close your eyes if you’re so scared” he dictated, and then they were off into the abyss.

  
  


Absolute silence reigned as the walls closed in around the pair and the sea-floor gloom grew deeper.

Eventually the unnaturally long span of quiet got on Alacran’s nerves.

“Shouldn’t you be complaining about the slimy looking crevasse walls by now or something?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at his small passenger.

The light of the glowing sea floor plants just barely illuminated the lalafell’s face, revealing tightly shut eyes and furrowed brows.

“...Tiel?”

Her hands were trembling on the saddle.

“If you even describe _one more word_ about our surroundings I shall go _mad._ ”

His heart softened a little bit. 

For all that she was being ridiculous, at least it wasn't an act.

"Alright…and you can hang onto me if you really need to."

She said nothing, but immediately wrapped her arms around his waist.

He settled against her and together they dove deeper into the abyss.

-=-=-

The underwater palace left her in greater spirits, as apparently the thrills of new robes outweighed the inherent terror of an entire building under the sea filled with gnarly sea creatures.

It was just unfortunate for Alacran that all the clothes they gathered were _unbelievably scandalous._

"Are you _trying_ to seduce the octopi around here?" he grumbled as he turned away so she could shimmy into the tiniest skirt he’d _ever_ had the pleasure of seeing.

And he used to hang out at the _Quicksand._

"Hush! I look fabulous. Join me, I think this top would fit you!" she urged, holding out a black and crimson shirt that was more arm than anything else.

"There's barely any fabric _to fit_!” he protested, turning it over “I’m pretty sure this would barely cover my pecs…”

“Isn’t that the fun of it??” she beamed, doing a _sinful_ skirt twirl that did nothing to protect her modesty-save for the fact that he was looking at her from above instead of the side.

He lowered the “shirt” and glared in an attempt to stave off anything...untoward.

“We've argued about this already: I’m not going to exchange the comfort and protection of full plate armor for _glorified nipple covers!_ ”

“Oh sod off; here I thought we could have matching outfits for once!” she whined, tugging on her gloves.

“We already did that _once._ I for one want to keep it that way” he grumbled and stuffed the shirt back in the chest from whence it came.

She pouted and ran to catch up as he strode ahead, distancing himself from slutty armor options once and for all.

“For the record, Alacran, we’re going to look ridiculous to the next fully sentient enemy we fight. A noble, pure looking, fully armored hero and his tiny skanky sidekick!”

“That’ll be Yotsuyu’s problem, not mine” he groaned.

"Oh true. Maybe it will shock her enough that she stops being an evil bitch!"

Alacran rolled his eyes and provoked a nearby sea creature.

"I highly doubt skankiness alone can do that.” 

Tiel sighed and began her now familiar volley of malefics.

“One can dream of solving all problems with fashion…”

“I wouldn’t waste my time on _that!_ ”

“Nitwit.”

-=-=-

Alisae and Lyse proved successful in retrieving the jewel and though a series of events that seemed almost madcap in retrospect, the reunited party found themselves infiltrating an entire island packed to the gills with hostile beastmen.

"I can't help feeling like something's going to happen-oh hold _still_ Alisae, take this Balance-" Tiel called as she flung down a series of Gravities on the pack of turtle-men that seemed to be charging after them.

"Beast men, a jewel...yeah" Alacran called back, slashing away at a turtle's legs as he edged closer to the vault door.

Alisae sighed in a way that belied her distaste for their mournful predictions while dispatching a kojin with an excellent lunge.

"The entrance to the vault is straight ahead, you two-carry out the mission!"

-=-=-

Of course it would all come down to a battle with a primal.

"Called it." Alacran and Tiel hissed to each other as all three artefacts whirled around in the air, and a _presence_ made itself known with a booming voice.

The kojin who had pursued them into the vault halted.

“Hark! A great kami stirs… Yes, yes, a great kami of the sacred treasures!”

"Five cheesecakes says he asks us to fight" Alacran hissed to Tiel as the kojin broke out in awed chatter.

Sure enough, the disembodied voice rang out.

"Such audacity is deserving of celebration, exultation─a contest of wills to mark the occasion! Let lines be drawn! Let sides be chosen! And for their loyalty, we shall stand with the caretakers of our greater part."

"Called it" Alacran hissed.

"Five drinks says he's a water one" Tiel hissed back.

"I'm not buying you _drinks_ when you're afraid of liquid itself these days" Alacran hissed back.

-=-=-

After escaping the kojin for the present, they reconvened.

"We have to defeat that primal!" Alisae burst out immediately.

"We know..." Tiel sighed grimly, shuffling through her deck in preparation.

Alacran nodded and cleaned his blade on some nearby seaweed. Turtle blood didn’t seem to agree with his blade.

Alisae straightened up.

"Lyse, you and I will do our best to draw the Kojin away from the primal. We’ll lead them on a wild-dodo chase all over this isle. The rest of the plan, I’m afraid you can guess. I’m sorry, I truly am, but neither Lyse or I can even approach Susano, much less hope to defeat him. Which means you two are on your own."

Lyse locked her fingers together and stretched.

"Well, who knows? They do have an awful lot of adventurer friends. Maybe some of them decided to take a fishing trip to the Far East, and are surprisingly close by…?"

Tiel grinned, and turned away to tap her linkshell as Alisae sighed.

"Yes, Lyse, and I speak fluent Hingan. Come on, there’s no point putting this off!"

The two women dashed away just as Tiel turned around with a grin.

"Guuuess who was on their way to deliver some high quality goods to Kugane?"

Alacran thought for a moment. The only high quality crafter he knew besides the one in front of him was…

"Zana?"

"Yep! And she's traveling with a bunch of people."

-=-=-

"Behold the power of trade connections" Tiel whispered as Zana and a motley crew of a summoner, warrior and a few others disembarked from a small ship.

"Let's hope they don't get tempered by turtle gods" Alacran whispered back.

"Nihilist." She hissed.

"Optimist." He hissed back.

-=-=-

"WILD AND FREEEEE!!" roared Susano with primal glee.

Alacran leapt forward and pressed his shield up against Susano’s descending blade. 

It was impossibly huge, and the party behind him gasped at the feat as adrenaline coursed through him, lending him temporary power to resist the _giant_ sword above.

His vision went blue around the edges, and primal power sung in his veins.

It was impossible to tell if it was sweat or rain that was rolling down his face.

A soft Aspected Helios settled onto him, and it smoothed away a little of the pain of his screaming muscles. He turned his head ever so slightly to thank his _astrologian_...and then his eyes widened as he saw her eye the incoming orbs of magic, then cast Lightspeed with a glint in her eye.

“DON’T YOU EVEN THIN-” he tried to yell, but the storm-wind whipped the words away. He could only watch as she ran into the oncoming spells, soaking them with her tiny frame.

He tried not to cringe, not to lose his grip on his shield and his stance on the sodden ground as the primal bore down on him.

All he could do was watch as she cast back to back healing spells on herself and then _ran to the next orb._

_If we live through this, I’m going to kill her._

-=-=-

Water primals were usually a sickening experience, but Susano had been kind enough thus far not to try sweeping Tiel off of his arena, so things were altogether not nearly as bad as they could be!

As the primal leaped away off the arena, the lalafell laid down an Earthly Star and enveloped the party in her bubble, sensing the tides- _heh-_ were about to turn.

Sure enough, there the metal body of Susano arose out of the waves, a hundred times larger than before and bearing an absolutely _ridiculous sword_.

She tensed and half-prepared to leap aside as the sword began its descent.

Zana yelled something from behind that was ripped away in the storm-presumably whether they should move. Tiel raised a cautionary hand, waiting, _waiting._

And then _there he was,_ leaping ahead of her as always to _block the blade._

She cackled at the sight of it as the rest of the party behind her screamed at the sight of one lone man blocking a blade that by all rights _shouldn’t_ be blockable.

“You never fail, do you?” she whispered into the wind, then shook off the awe in favor of healing the party.

Once general health was ensured, she cast about and noticed...great big balls of magic approaching. 

The rest of the motley crew was occupied with attacking the sword.

"No help for it" she murmured, drawing a Bole and casting Lightspeed as she cast a fond glance at Alacran.

_My turn to protect you._

The magic bubbled up within her, a surge of healing power as she ran point-blank into the spell to soak it with her body.

It left her nearly dead on her feet, swaying and faint with the scorching thrum of lighting aether.

Without pausing to even think, the spells came naturally, _one benefic, two benefic, aspected benefic… now I'm back together._

She spun on her heels and dashed to the next ball.

-=-=-

The sword descended at last, obliterating her vision with a rain of white water.

_Essential Dignity myself, then Helios…._ were her final thoughts.

And then the world returned in a rush of color, Susano had shrunk down to his original size, and thunderclouds were bubbling into existence.

A feral grin crept across her face before she knew it.

 _More fight left to fight_ crooned a dark corner of her mind, one that had only whispered before when she used white magic.

She stood in the fresh rain, shocked and then laughed.

"Ah...I get it."

A card slipped from her grasp, landing in the giant arena puddle.

"I get it. It was never just the elementals pushing me along...it was me."

_I like destroying things. And I like putting them together._

_What was it that Ravana said?_

Slowly she bent and picked up the card.

Balance.

She laughed, and slotted it into the globe.

"Well, let’s rejoice in the glory of combat."

Susano marked her up for a spell just then, catapulting her backwards. She tried to dig her feet deep into the stone and water as she went skidding across the surface of the water in a massive spray.

The little fear of _drowning_ that always screamed in the back of her mind vanished as she whispered “ _swiftcast_ ” and then she was running forwards towards her party, her paladin.

_Aspected helios, earthly star in transit…_

The stacking spell that had been placed on her exploded on the whole party just in time for the star to go off and she _giggled_ with delight.

-=-=-

At last Susano sank below the waves, defeated.

Zana shuddered at the sight, clutching her black mage staff still with white knuckles.

“That...was…”

“All in a day’s work!” Tiel chirped, slinging her astrolabe onto her back recklessly.

The roegadyn woman blinked at her slowly.

“I much prefer a day’s work where I don’t run the chance of terrible death.” she drawled as she shouldered her staff.

“Oh come, come. I’ll pay you back with free labor like usual?” 

Immediately, the wrinkle between Zana’s eyebrows smoothed.

“Well, if you put it that way. See you later; I have seventeen orders for ball gowns waiting. I hope you like attaching silver braid for days.”

Tiel groaned.

“Nothing better.”

Tiel waved the shaken party goodbye as they ran back to their ship, then turned to greet Alacran as he approached... _thunderously._

_Uh-oh._

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??” the man yelled, falling to his knees in the water in front of her so he could shake her by the shoulders.

“That nobody else looked like they were going to pick up the orbs? I lived…” Tiel tried to argue as she lolled back and forth in his hands.

His hands stilled and his fingers drove into her flesh.

“You should have made the warrior...protect you.”

She averted her eyes.

“Not interested. I wanted to protect everyone myself, and that was the fastest way I could do it.”

Alacran grimaced.

“You’re.. _._ foolhardy”

“It was a _calculated_ risk” she argued back, because why didn’t he understand?? She was _fine._

Sure she had _almost_ died, but she _hadn’t._

“Well I don't _like_ you risking yourself!!!” he growled, shoving his face against hers.

Brutally honest for his doing.

Tiel bit her lip.

"And if I don't push myself, my limits... how will we ever defeat Zenos??"

He drew back slightly, shoulders tensing as he spoke.

"As long as _I_ don't die, you never will. I won't let you. I’ll… figure something out, I see that look in your eyes saying ‘you couldn’t have gotten those balls’ and...I couldn’t have this time...but..."

A muscle was twitching in his jaw, she quietly noted.

Slowly, she brought her hands up to her shoulders to rest on his.

“Alacran...You have been my shield for so long, but you're breaking out there. You can’t defend me from all of Garlemald, let alone _Zenos_ as we are now…”

His eyebrows knitted together, _hurt._ She hurried on with her words.

“So let me be yours. Your shield. That’s my solution. Not just a healer, not just support, but a part of your arsenal. If I’m injured in combat, don’t _worry._ A shield is meant to get a little beat up.”

She rubbed her thumbs across his few knuckles she could span with herl hands and smiled.

“Zenos told you to sharpen your _blade_. And I think he’s right, much as I don’t want some madman dictating what you do. It’s time to fight without worrying about me.”

Something glinted in his eyes.

“I will _never_ fight without worrying about you” he sighed, then finally released his bruising grip on her shoulders.

“But you agree??” she asked anxiously.

Slowly he stood up, his armor clanking dully.

“I...something will need to be changed to defeat that bastard. I just wish it didn’t mean you throwing yourself in the way of harm.”

She cast a fond look up at him, her neck well accustomed to stretching back by now.

“Then you’ll just have to work something out, hm?”

“Oh sure, put the onus on me now...” he retorted, but with no venom behind it.

She clapped a hand against his thigh.

“You’ll work it out. We always manage.”

“Aye...that we do.”

-=-=-

“Well, all’s well that ends well!” Tiel exclaimed as Gosetsu reconvened with the group. 

Alacran privately thought that perhaps they shouldn’t have taken up valuable time by arguing so much across the entire Ruby Sea since the man looked very much the worse for wear; but as everyone was in good spirits, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

-=-=-

Tiel decided approximately one yalm into Yanxia that this place was her _jam._

"Look at those _trees_!!" She stage whispered to Alacran as the party crept up to the little village ahead.

"What about 'em?" Alacran asked absentmindedly as he eyed a tiger in the distance.

Tiel heaved a sigh. The man was _hopeless_ when it came to spotting gardening potential.

"They're _nice,_ and I'm going to make you get me some clippings later since you're so blessed in the...leg region. I want to try planting my garden with them."

Alacran groaned.

"I've played bodyguard, dance partner, chauffeur and now you assign me to assistant gardener duty? You should pay me."

Tiel wrinkled her nose.

"I already do; I still owe you one more cheesecake, after all."

Alacran sighed dismally.

"I don't want my last cheesecake until I can enjoy it on the couch."

Tiel immediately knew _which_ couch he meant, and tapped him playfully on the leg.

"Fair enough, I can't even begin to imagine where I'd get the right cheese around here anyway."

"And even if you did...these people probably don't have couches…" Alacran sighed, his tone indicating that that was a national tragedy.

She couldn't help giggling.

"Homesick already?"

He smiled gently down at her as the morning sun began to cut through the mists, landing on his white hair and setting it aglow like glimmering snow.

"Only for the couch- the rest of it I'm already stuck with."

She sucked in a breath at the sight, but before his words could really sink in, Gosetsu was beckoning them onwards.

She shook off the strange feeling that had wrapped its way around her belly at the sight of his pointy teeth so genially bared. 

After all, there was much gardening to consider!

-=-=-

Tiel stood bleakly at the edge of the pond on the outskirts of Namai, and clenched a shawl around herself in the morning breeze. The sun earlier had been an unkept promise of warmth, and now she was getting a taste of true Yanxian weather. 

Not to mention...

"Even _more_ swimming, huh." she groaned.

Alacran sighed, doffing his armor in preparation for diving.

"At least Gosetsu promises this swim to be short."

"Though by now we know that that is little consolation to Mother, hm?" Alisae snottily called over her shoulder as she took a running leap into the icy pond.

"Oh _thanks_!" Tiel yelped after the young elezen before turning to Alacran.

"Teenagers, am I right?"

He regarded her with quietly merry eyes.

"Remember, I used to be one myself only a mere few years ago. I still feel the youthful compulsion to make fun of my sillier elders."

Her jaw went slack.

"Sillier… ohhh it is _on!_ "

She charged at him, ready to vanquish his kneecaps only for the man to leap sideways into the water and dive down.

Without a thought, she plunged in after him seeking vengeance. 

She barely took note of the _horrible_ underwater passageway as she honed in on her target of his powerful thighs and attached kneecaps. 

Sadly, his lengthy limbs kept him in the lead as they ascended up through the underwater shaft to emerge in an enclosed pool. 

Tiel burst above the surface, gasping for breath as Alacran clambered ashore with ease before extending a smug hand.

"Why, fancy meeting you here."

She snorted water out of her nose and grimly accepted the hand as her legs were much too short to crawl onto the bank with ease.

Then his words sank in.

"Why, _you…_ "

"What?" Alacran primly asked as he slicked back a sopping strand of hair most distractingly.

Tiel sputtered unbelievingly. 

"You...you...you've been antagonizing me just so I'll swim without complaining, _haven't you?!!_ "

He shot her a smug look, eyes narrowing until all she could see was the tiny golden glint of his limbral rings.

"Maybe. I do know you _very well,_ after all _._ "

  
  


The guards outside the House of the Fierce that day bore incredulous witness to the unusual sight of a man being slapped with a deck of cards.

-=-=-

The House of the Fierce left quite a lot to be desired in terms of forces, but the spirit was there- and so was Yugiri.

The ninja was quickly brought up to speed by Lyse and Alisae’s break-neck recounting of the Scion’s doings so far, and soon the soft spoken raen proposed a reconnaissance mission to the area- an idea that Tiel took to with a gleam in her eye.

-=-=-

“Come on, Alacran! We have to fit in with the locals!”

Alacran looked at the yukata the lalafell was holding up with a shite-eating grin and groaned.

“I should have _known_ you’d make me one when I wasn’t looking.”

It was mossy-green too, just like she had mentioned weeks ago in Kugane.

He reluctantly pulled it on and immediately missed the security of armor. 

_Guess I’m a paladin to the bone._

As he and Tiel approached Namai, they spotted Lyse and Yugiri hiding on the outskirts.

Yugiri turned to them with a smile.

“Ah, there you two are. I am glad to see that you too put thought into your garments given the covert nature of our activities.”

Tiel beamed like a triumphant little sun.

“We shall pose as traveling merchants─Mother as our leader, given her...origins, and we as her assistants. Are there any objections?” Yugiri asked, glancing around.

Lyse scratched her neck.

“I’m not really the merchant type, but if you think this is the best way to go about it, I’ll trust you.”

Alacran shook his head.

“Nobody will doubt that a lalafell is a filthy gil monger-er, _trader_.” he hastily added as Tiel brandished her deck of cards meaningfully.

-=-=-

After several exciting undercover missions-including one daring rescue mission where Alacran found out he had a secret talent for blowdarts-Alacran and Tiel found themselves at Yugiri's side on the riverbank as she gazed out over the waters.

"...Every day, I pray for my home, and for the people I left behind. That they might be spared the wages of war, and live in peace, untouched by this madness" Yugiri softly admitted.

Tiel nodded in recognition.

"I saw...things in the Peaks… it's funny. I never really thought much about my reason for fighting before, since it felt like I'd been accidentally dragged into being a warrior of light all this time...but now, now I see myself in the people I meet, people too downtrodden to fight for themselves… and I don't mind fighting."

Alacran grimaced.

"This whole business with the villagers.. they might not have put a name to it as such, but that _employment_ smelt more like _slavery._ "

He clenched his sword tightly.

"And I don't do well with that."

The little group fell silent for a while as the water lapped peaceably against the shore… until a humming noise sliced through the quiet sunset sky.

“An imperial airship” Yugiri stated, shifting uneasily.

“And it looks like it’s bound for the castle” Alacran added.

"Well, let's not stand around like a bunch of nitwits-come on!" Tiel called as she began to teleport.

-=-=-

Upon arrival back at the House of the Fierce, the reception was dark.

“The crown prince has come to Doma” Gosetsu growled.

Alacran felt his hackles rise as the memory of Zeno’s savage blades played in his mind’s eye.

“Though Yotsuyu governs Doma, Zenos remains the province’s anointed viceroy-and it would seem he has come to assess the current situation in person.” Alisae added.

Yugiri thrust a fist into her hand.

“If Zenos is here, we must seize this opportunity and kill him.”

Tiel fingered her deck as Alacran automatically dropped a hand to his sword in solidarity.

But Alisae shook her head.

“Would that it were so simple, Lady Yugiri. You may recall that we encountered Zenos at Rhalgr’s Reach. We have seen firsthand what he can do.”

Alacran cleared his throat.

“I had the pleasant experience of being at blade point with him. Even I was thoroughly on my heels.”

Alisae nodded, then went on bitterly recounting the tale as Tiel stood silently, turning over her cards.

Alacran slipped up beside her.

“What do you think?” he asked quietly, nodding towards the group deep in heated discussion.

"That's it's unwise to try...but…"

"...You want to." He realized.

She nodded.

"I'm not that much stronger yet, and neither are you...but I've tried to change. And I have some new tricks up my sleeve…"

She smiled a secret, terrifying smirk.

Alacran sighed.

"It _would_ help solve our problems if he died…. And maybe… maybe I'd figure something out."

Tiel chuckled lowly.

"The good ol' 'Alacran Learns On The Fly'?"

The xaela held up his hands.

"In my defense, it's worked before. That _was_ how we killed our first dragon together…"

Tiel grinned, her eyes misty for a moment.

"Oh Halone, that was... _years ago_ now…"

"We pulled through." He reminded her.

"So we did…" she murmured, then turned her eyes on the knot of Scions and Domans still left arguing. Yugiri broke away from the pack, shoulders set high and tight.

As she passed the pair of warriors of light, her eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

Tiel heaved a sigh, then turned back to her faithful companion.

"Shall we test our luck?"

Alacran hefted his sword.

"Don't even have to ask."

-=-=-

They found Yugiri by the river, reading through a message with a face of stone.

At their approach, she looked up with suspicion, but Tiel raised her hands peaceably.

"We've not come to drag you back. We want to come."

Yugiri's eyes went wide.

“To come? Then you know I will kill him-”

“Not alone.” Alacran stated immediately.

Yugiri blinked at the forcefulness of his tone.

"…We may die trying. You understand the risks."

Tiel nodded.

"We do very well indeed. But it's what we want."

Alacran smiled at the raen.

"Let's not waste time. Lead the way. Tell us the plan in transit."

Yugiri bowed, a grateful smile hovering on her lips.

"Thank you. Thank you. I…I cannot well express what this means to me...Now, we must hurry!"

-=-=-

Soon they found themselves camping out on top of a roof, waiting for Zeno's retinue to pass by.

Yugiri quietly checked her knives and ran through slashes and stabs with rapid strokes as Alacran leaned against the chimney and tried to listen out for the splash of a boat docking.

Tiel quietly waved him over to her position squatting on the roof ridge.

Alacran carefully approached, bemused to see her rooting through her bag of treasures- strangely with a large fine linen shirt pulled out at her feet.

"Alacran, listen. If the assasination goes wrong, we need as much as a backup plan as we can get besides throw ourselves into battle and see what happens."

“Fair. What's your plan? And why are you...holding leather pants."

He had a _bad_ feeling about this.

And judging by the look on her face, he was entirely justified.

“Weeell, you see, Zenos _clearly_ viscerally enjoys the glory of combat...so what if we play into that, in the event that Yugiri can’t land her hit on him?!”

She set the pants down next to the shirt and began to root around again.

Alacran squatted down and ran a finger along the line of the pants leg dubiously.

“And what _exactly_ do leather pants have to do with that??"

She smirked very widely, and started pulling something else out of the bag.

“Well you see, my thought is...why not play into the attraction he clearly has to strong opponents? Look!”

She brandished a familiar bikini in front of him triumphantly.

His stomach dropped.

“What you’re saying is...we wear slutty outfits to hopefully distract him?"

“Correct!”

“Absolutely not.”

She pouted.

"Why not?? He might like tall, handsome au ra...you never know..."

_Handsome._

He elected to ignore that, like all the compliments lately- _though how could I fail to notice them-_ because they had no time for it.

“I’m not giving up the protection of armor for the sake of a hare-brained strategy, and you shouldn’t either. You _know_ how dangerous this man is.”

She clenched the bikini tightly, hands trembling just slightly.

“I _know_. I know all too well. I’m just...trying to think with every ounce of my brain and that means with fashion too. I’m a spoiled Ul’dahn lady, after all.”

Her bottom lip was trembling, and he resisted the sudden inane urge to put his finger on it to _stop_ it.

Instead, he sighed heavily, and rooted around in his pockets.

“Where did I put...aha.”

He drew out two glamor prisms some lady had given him years ago that he’d never used because why cover up perfectly good armor?

“Glamor the bikini if you’re dead set on making a spectacle at the eleventh bell, but for _Halone’s sake,_ wear some _protection._ ”

She drew in a big, soggy sniff and choked out a laugh as she reached for the prisms.

“ _Thank you._ ”

“No problem” he whispered as her fingers grazed his, a single hint of warmth in the chilly evening air.

-=-=-

Of course the would-be assasination went wrong.

It was Zenos, after all.

Even as the prince deflected Yugiri’s failed killing blow, Tiel and Alacran were already running to her side.

“Let’s not die here, Yugiri. That would be bad for your health” Tiel called, then cast an Aspected Helios.

Zenos stood at a distance, looking down upon the shinobi and her allies.

“How weak you are. Is this the sum of your hate?”

Yugiri clutched her knives anew.

“This is only the beginning! For Lord Kaien! For Doma!”

The prince turned to Yotsuyu.

“Mayhap I shall test this new blade of yours. Let us hope it is to my liking, lest your misfortunes compound...Then again, I am loath to expend such effort on the unworthy. Come─earn the honor.”

Alacran growled and raised his shield at the insult as Yugiri quietly murmured to the pair.

“I have the foot soldiers if you have Zenos until they are dispatched.”

“Got it! Alacran, ready for the ol' Learn On The Fly?" 

Alacran started advancing towards Zenos cautiously.

"More like I Listen To Your Screams, but yes." he called back.

“I might go wild. Do you trust me?" she called as she began a rapid flurry of spells.

"Always” Alacran grinned, and then _ran._

Zenos met his swing with a resounding ring of metal and they locked blades with a spark sliding between the blade.

Zenos repelled the xaela with a gradual press of sheer strength, but Alacran smirked in the face of the prince.

_It took him longer this time._

He leapt back and this time prepared for a counter strike, provoking the prince as best he could as Tiel sidled around behind the man quietly.

Zenos did not rise to the bait, however, choosing to stand still.

“Hm. How much longer must you make me wait?” the man sighed.

Tiel nodded at Alacran from behind the prince.

“I guess we’ll have to come to you then, bastard.” Alacran growled, and with his shield raised he ran forward. Zenos hummed contemplatively, and entered a counter-striking stance...only for Alacran to barrel straight into the man with his shield raised, battering him backwards several steps.

At that moment, Tiel unleashed a volley of malefics, slamming spells into the garlean without ceasing. 

Zenos let out a quiet growl of appreciation near to Alacran’s horn and suddenly his blood ran cold.

Before he could even think, Alacran was pulling back, breath coming deep and hot as he glared the man down.

Tiel, seeing Alacran’s sudden change in demeanor also retreated.

“Very well. I suppose you have earned this…” Zenos contemplated aloud, his fingers landing on the hilt of a new sword.

Yugiri ran up then, her knives dripping with garlean blood and her pupils blown wide.

“This is not a game, you twisted, arrogant bastard!” she screamed, brandishing her weapons “This day you die!” 

Alacran dashed in front of Yugiri and raised his shield as he sensed her familiar limit break charging.

“Let us see…” Zenos laughed, advancing on them.

With a blood curdling scream, Yugiri unleashed Chimatsuri towards the prince… only for him to _block all the flying blades._

“So empty…” he sighed “All right…”

With a smooth motion, he drew his sword and the world went _red_ as a flash of power consumed him in an inferno of magic. Alacran, Tiel and Yugiri fell to their knees with force of it.

“Well done, beasts!” Zenos called aloud “You have earned the right to look on the Ame no Habakiri. Let us put you to the proof!”

“Back, _back_ ” Tiel screamed, swiftcasting an aspected helios with shaking hands. The party obeyed her as Zenos unleashed his new power in all directions in a scarlet-black spray of aether and then slowly began to _advance_ towards the party as the power still coursed all around him.

“No! I can still fight, I can still…still…” Yugiri called, even as her legs trembled under her. Tiel laid a hand in front of the shinobi, halting her faltering advance as Alacran moved in front of the two. 

“Back, Yugiri.” she quietly commanded.

“Leave it to us.” Alacran called, raising his shield.

Zenos moved forward for a blow and Alacran braced himself- only for there to suddenly be _two_ Zenos.

“I got the glowy one!” Tiel called, unleashing combust as she spoke.

Alacran nodded, and dodged backwards as the original one unleashed a Concentrivity.

“I remember your little tricks!” he taunted the prince, sidling away from where Yugiri lay in the dirt.

The prince laughed.

“Give me something to remember!” he commanded as he cast a spell that summoned lightning balls to the field.

Alacran laughed straight back.

“I remember how exploding balls work too-you garleans must think we Eorzeans are idiots!”

Zenos said nothing to the barb, but immediately released yet another of his scarlet sword artes. Alacran hopped out of it just nearly- his leg clipped only a smidge. It burned, but he stumbled and kept running.

“Run beast, run!” Zenos growled, somehow sounding disappointed despite Alacran following his directive literally.

“I _am,_ do you think me both an idiot _and_ deaf?” Alacran called back as he weaved his way through a minefield of lightning orbs.

"I told you to come for my _blood._ What are you so afraid of? Bare your fangs. Why do you refuse to hunt me like beasts do? What shackles hold you back, beast?"

Alacran froze, recalling hands, holding child sized arms back. Blood spilling on yellow-green grass.

_Apsat...promise me…._

“LOOK BEHIND!!” Tiel screamed. Instinctively the paladin spun to see the copy of Zenos had snuck up behind him and was about to attack. He tried to raise his shield, knowing there was no way to avoid the blow now-

And then suddenly warm aether surrounded him writhing like the wind, like Aero but with gusty hard edges made soft and he was flying _sideways,_ dragged along, dangling above the ground incredulously. 

He turned his head with difficulty to see where the wind was taking him and _oh,_ there Tiel was, the largest grin on her face, arms flung wide in welcome as her cards and golden hair whipped around her in a veritable wind storm.

The wind let him off quite suddenly at her feet, and immediately she doused him with Bole and an Aspected Benefic.

“I call _that_ one Rescue!” she laughed merrily, then spun around to unleash a combust on the silent, still copy of Zenos who was still standing where Alacran had left him.

The copy vanished as Zeno laughed.

“You two are better than most, I’ll grant you that. But not good enough. This ends now.”

Beside Alacran, Tiel whispered “ _sure cast_ ” as the garlean leapt forward and unleashed Concentrivity yet again, knocking Alacran down…

“Celestial Opposition.”

And then the world filled with white-blue light and Zenos _froze_ , stunned in place.

Alacran rose to his feet, his muscles screaming as Tiel rained malefics down on the prince. Instinctively, he raised his sword and _lunged_.

For an instant in time, his sword reached, his soul sang… and then faster than he could almost see, Ame no Habakiri ascended from the earth to the sky, slicing up across Alacran’s chest, cleaving open metal and flesh as a final Concentrivity flung him away helter skelter across the ground until he crashed to a stop against a tree in a cacophony of metal and a scarlet spray of blood.

Dazedly, Alacran watched as Yugiri tried to land a futile blow and was thrown back for her efforts.

“You are not worthy" Zenos declared flatly, then began to walk towards the fallen paladin.

_I have to get up… he'll kill all three of us…_ Alacran thought vaguely. He clenched his sword hand.

_Empty._

His legs wouldn't move despite his will and his vision was blurring.

_I can't die...I promi…._

“Get away from them, you imperial dog!”

Alacran raised his head foggily and stared out his one unblurred eye. A whole troupe of villagers was a stones throw down the road, wielding rough weaponry.

_Not...enough…. They're...I'm not...enough_ he thought slowly, then pitched over, blacking out.

-=-=-

"ALACRAAAN!!" Tiel shrieked as he tumbled to a halt, dripping with blood.

She rose to her feet shakily, pure adrenaline and fury rushing through her veins, lending her strength.

Alisae appeared from _somewhere_ and quickly cast a vercure on her from afar, even as Tiel worked her way towards the fallen paladin.

Zenos eyed her stumbling journey with relish.

“Ahhh…I remember you. Ala Mhigo. The champion of the savages.”

She cast an Earthly Star under Alacran from afar with a little prayer to any deity that might be listening in, then spun around to the prince with desperation shining in her eyes.

“I’m a poor champion yet, but give me time and you may have yourself your _fun_.”

Zenos stood there silently, _considering._

For a moment she dared hope there might be another way-

Then he raised his blade.

_Ah, Alacran. Forgive me if I take my turn to stand in the way of a blade._

And then a horn fell off of Zenos’s helm, falling to the ground with a clink.

She couldn’t help eying its descent, thinking _hah, poor armor-smithing work_ even as she realized what an _inane_ thing that was to think in the presence of the man who was about to end your life.

“Oh…how right I was to spare your life.”

She flicked her eyes back up to see the prince _sheathe his sword_ and remove his helm to reveal a handsome, chilling face.

“Hear me, hero. Endure. Survive. Live.” the prince commanded.

“For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds─live. For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world─live!”

She resisted the urge to say _ok, sure, now get out of my way._

With the apparent threat of imminent death removed, all that was in her mind was _he has a chest wound, concussion, fractured ribs??_

The area flooded with smoke as she dashed away from the prince and the troupe of villagers with Gosetsu advanced towards Zenos.

She sank to her knees next to the prone paladin and immediately cast aspected benefic on her friend.

"Collective Unconscious...I have you, so _wake up._ Please.. _._ "

The gentle rush of healing magic seemed to revive the beaten-down au ra enough that he opened his eyes before she had to make him.

"Tiel…? You're...ok?"

The man tried to move his arm to check for his sword and then winced as the motion made him viscerally aware of the very large gash in his chest.

Tiel seized his hand firmly, holding him down.

"Hold still, nitwit. I'm fine, we all are. Backup came just in time, so now you need to calm down and let me heal you."

He went to nod, then froze as the head movement seemed to make him nauseous.

"You probably have a concussion, so I need you to try staying awake for me, ok?"

"Kay" he croaked, and let his arm flop back down gently.

Tiel smiled and began unfastening his greaves quickly.

"Well here I am again, treating another terrible wound of yours in a bikini. We've really come full circle here!” she cheerfully piped up as she knelt in the dirt to lift off the armor pieces.

"Oh dear, idiot, wearing so much armor all the time, making it hard for your healers. You hear me?"

He blinked feebly, and tried to croak out a response.

She shot him a pleased look even as her fingers struggled to manipulate the straps of his breastplate.

"Don't have to speak, just keep listening to my voice. Stay awake. If you go to sleep, you might not wake."

She had the one buckle undone now, though she lost a finger nail edge to the clasp.

"Blasted big races using big straps..." she grumbled "...Can't you think of the small fingered people who might have to undress you?!"

He struggled to put the words together, lips feeling heavy and thick

"...Pee..ple. don..undress me."

She shot him another strangely pleased look that made his stomach warm for some reason, despite the blood spilling out of it.

"Lovely concentration Alacran! Keep at it but don't push yourself. Also, that's a pity! Such a handsome fellow and nobody dares pull him out of his things? Whatever is the world coming to?"

Some lizardy part of his brain _knew_ this was bedside patter, trying to keep him engaged and awake, but _oh_ , some little part of him cringed to have exposed that detail about himself.

"I'mmm... veery tall" he murmured, wondering why his mouth felt like it was made of ham.

"Anyone can see that, darling, can you roll on your left side for me? I'm going to lift the breastplate off."

He did so, wincing as the pain shot through him like lightning. 

“Aughh” he moaned as the plate lifted off, dragging sharp metal bits up through the skin, tearing the edges of the wound anew.

Tiel clicked her tongue soothingly, then began to hum as she rapidly cast esuna and refreshed aspected benefic.

"Stay focused on the tune and do not bite your tongue; whatever you do” she directed briskly.

It was a very pretty tune, and she should really hum more often is what he thought he was thinking, but suddenly everything was very cold, and he believed that's a bad sign and he should tell her that.

But what came out of his ham mouth was quite different.

"You...ssound...priddy."

She laughed, and cast another benefic on him.

“Singing was the only musical class I ever did well at. Couldn’t pluck chords for harp delicately, couldn’t play piano with both hands at once.”

“An’ yet...master crafter...both hands at once” he groaned.

“Oh that? I’m only a master culinarian and weaver. The rest I squeak by. And really, I only focused on crafting because I had nobody else besides the guildmast-hm. Well. Breath deep now. Going to knit the bones.”

That tidbit seemed _important_ and he wanted to press, to know _more, more_ but his mind was suddenly untethered, his soul hazy around the edges.

“Breathe. This will hurt.” she commanded.

A bloom of pain and he was gone, eyes unseeing, mind floating in place as he tried to stay awake.

It felt like an eternity as he hung onto reality by a thread, listening to the hum of her voice, but finally she leaned close.

"Drink this for me, please."

The cool glass of a potion bottle met his lips and he swallowed obediently.

It was bitter, but the bitterness was thankfully cut with honey. 

"Normally I wouldn't bother restoring your mana, but you need every resource your body can get…"

She smoothed a callused thumb over his lips, pressing a missed drop of the potion into his mouth.

If he'd had the blood free to blush with he was vaguely sure he'd have blushed at how casually intimate the gesture was, but he was immediately distracted from that thought by her quiet voice.

"You're out of danger now. We're getting a stretcher to bring you back. You can rest now."

He trusted and let go without a thought. 

Tiel sighed softly and wiped a sheen of sweat off her forehead.

The two men who had offered to fetch a stretcher were still nowhere in sight, so she softly dragged his sleeping head onto her lap.

“I can’t believe that you had the gall to lecture me about love when apparently you’ve never even been in a relationship!” she scolded him as she ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing away the flyaway bits.

His brows wrinkled in sleep, and when his arm twitched he let out a groan.

She snorted.

“Still…That’s _just like you,_ you ridiculous man.."

Her patient shifted again in his sleep, but this time without any sign of pain. The potion had finally done its work.

She smiled fondly, stroked a finger across his unfurrowed brow, then looked up and down the road.

Still no-one in sight.

Quietly she pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Rest well, righteous hero. There will be time for me to get you back for this later.”

  
  



	14. Hunt On: Walking Widdershins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, I've gotten pretty lengthy with this one and the next but adapting canon into my own vision is a process I've not yet fine tuned. I hope there's some heart-warming moments to be gleaned at the very least! Please enjoy!

Alacran drifted through a world of half-lit dreams, pulled along by some writhing force that glinted bright only when he looked away...

_…_

_“You’re a great shot for a sproutling!” Father called as Alacran felled his second bird of the day._

_The murmur of hushed voices as he drifted off to sleep at night..._

_"...talented with a blade too...uncanny….said 'I just knew'..."_

_"...Prodigy?"_

_"Aye, but…"_

_“Prodigy killer…”_

_…_

_Mother looked at him as if he was a new kind of creature…._

_…_

_“Promise me, Apsat…”_

-=-=-

"Shall I take the night watch over our friend?" Alphinaud asked, quietly laying a hand on Tiel's shoulder around the twenty-second bell.

The lalafell sighed, patting his hand as she looked up from her kneeling position next to Alacran's motionless form.

"No… no Alphy, I think he likes my singing...and I doubt that you can carry a tune quite so well; no offense."

Alphinaud flushed.

"Perhaps my bar songs are not the best test of my talents, but point taken."

The boy melted away into the crowd of people gathered in the House of the Fierce, but kept a quiet eye on the pair as he went.

Alisae sidled up next to her brother and clicked her tongue as she leaned on Alphinaud’s shoulder.

“They’re going to tucker each other out at this rate" she solemnly observed while scratching her ear.

Alphinaud nodded solemnly at his sister, even as he wrinkled his nose at her antics.

“It would seem it is high time I devote myself even more to my studies.”

Alisae shot a glance sideways at him, then snickered.

"Awww, is Ser Leveilleur put out that one of the best healers in the world doesn't trust a whelp with an unruly carbuncle to mind her patient?"

Alphinaud winced, then pulled away just fast enough to leave Alisae out of balance.

With a shriek, she windmilled her arms and regained her footing just in time.

“Ooo, you’ll pay for that!” she groaned, glaring at him as he swiftly retreated out of corps-a-corps range. 

“Someday, mayhap.” Alphinaud called, putting ample distance between them.

Alisae scowled at his retreat, then flashed a glance at their Warriors of Light just as Mother dragged the wounded paladin's head onto her lap.

"Oh.” Alisae whispered under her breath.

-=-=-

Alacran awoke slowly, eyes sliding open begrudgingly against the midday sun.

The blue sky was straight above him, framed by the rough stone walls of the House of the Fierce.

A low hum of voices and the soft ringing of something familiar buzzed in his horns, almost uncomfortably.

Then a set of rapid footsteps came close and the familiar face of a worried Alphinaud loomed over him, cutting out the afternoon sun.

“Oh good, you're awake!” he smiled, laying a cool hand to the au ra’s forehead to check his temperature.

“Ti-Mother…?” Alcran croaked, finding his throat immensely dry.

Alphinaud frowned.

“She’s well, we all are.”

The boy turned his eyes down to Alacran’s feet. 

“She hasn't left your side at all… Although, somehow I doubt she’s comfortable.”

Alacran followed the boy’s eyes down the stretch of his legs to see the familiar form of his oldest friend, asleep on her knees beside him, her face nearly planted in the dirt.

“Oh, for pity’s sake” he groaned, and tried to sit up-only for Alphinaud to press down on his shoulder.

“None of that! Don’t destroy her efforts!” he chided.

Alacran looked down at his torso then, realizing it was swathed in bandages.

And then the pain hit, low, hot and searing.

“Halone.” he grunted, and collapsed backwards.

“At least make her lie down, that’s got to be hell on her knees” Alacran begged, casting an arm gingerly over his eyes to shield them from the burning sun.

Alisae’s voice piped up next to him.

“Gladly! I've been longing to do that all day!”

The young elezen scooped up the lalafell in one smooth swoop and before the woman could awake, she laid her down beside Alacran.

"There we go!" 

The lalafell's face wrinkled in her sleep, but her eyes remained closed.

Hazily, Alacran extended one arm as he fought against the pain and scooped her closer.

"We made it...” he whispered against her forehead before collapsing back into the embrace of blessed sleep.

-=-=-

Tiel woke slowly, struggling against the sun.

"Coffee…" she groaned, touching her head gingerly as the effects of caffeine withdrawal hit her like a rock.

A low, rumbling laugh came from beside her.

"I see where your priorities really lie."

She froze, as memories of the previous day came flooding back.

"How are you feeling??" She asked her patient, as she immediately sat up and snapped into brisk examining mode, sliding her hands across the bandages to check for dampness.

Alacran smiled up at her, then winced as he moved his shoulder a little too sharply.

"I'm fine, just sore."

Tiel left out a soft sigh of relief, her lips trembling. Alacran only had a moment to brace himself and then hot tears plip-plopped straight down onto his face, spattering on his nose.

"D..don't do that again." She begged, swiftly wiping the tears away and digging in her pockets for a handkerchief.

Alacran’s face froze up in horror as she took a huge, gulping sob and the sheer sight of it had her blowing snot straight out her nose in laughter.

“Well, if you have the energy to look alarmed, then I think you’re going to be alright!” she half laughed, half sobbed as she wiped her tears off his face and then her own.

Alacran bit his tongue _because I’d take the hit again in a heartbeat for you._

“I knew you’d save me” he softly said instead, and settled down to focus on healing in earnest.

-=-=-

After a few days on the mend, the party of Scions was ready to depart on the next leg of their journey, heading towards the Azim Steppe.

The closer the party got to the mountains that marked the border between Yanxia and the Steppe, however, the more Alacran’s scales itched.

The air had begun to smell strangely wide and thin and the sun lay heavier; the way it used to seep into his bones in the middle of Thanalan.

They encamped beside the road before the cave passage; it being unwise to walk through caves at night.

That night Alacran woke up, panting, sniffing desperately for a scent that had wound its way into a dream and opened a score of half-memories he didn’t even know he had.

They danced behind his eyelids when he tried to doze off again.

_The sun beating down into every rivulet in his horns and making them hot to the touch._

_Hunting with Father._

_Running, running, slave traders gaining, gaining don’t kill us don’t take us I just want to live-_

-=-=-

The party came out of the caves that divided Yanxia and Azim and stopped solid.

“This is where you used to live?” Tiel asked wonderingly as she sprinted forward to survey the wide plains that stretched out to the horizon.

Alacean nodded at her and checked his sword instinctively.

_Son, be on guard at all time; nature is merciless for those without their wits about them._

-=-=-

"Well, this is sodding wonderful!" Tiel muttered to herself, probing the needlegrass ahead of her with her staff.

The steppe sun may have felt lovely on her skin, but the grass...the grass whipped her hands and legs, and stretched above her diminutive frame: at times even eclipsing the pure blue sky.

Gosetsu had suggested approaching Reunion on foot as it was the least threatening image for the party-as opposed to riding “any of your impressive beasts of burden".

It was a tactic she understood, since she did have an entire menagerie of frothing and flaming beasts at her disposal, but the man had failed to account for the fact that needlegrass was _sodding tall._

"May all your teas have piss in them,Gosetsu" she uncharitably growled as her staff missed the mark and the grass flicked back in her face, scraping her jaw.

Slowly, she fell further and further behind the party.

-=-=-

Alacran was frankly rather enjoying himself: the grass rasped and rustled underfoot with a nice crunch, the air was alive with scents of animals and vaguely familiar plants and he could see the outpost up ahead. 

Anticipation of finding the Doman prince drove him along swiftly, until a niggling feeling slid into the back of his skull.

It had been far too long since Tiel had delivered a verbal jab, not to mention he hadn't heard the now familiar sound of shuffling cards in a while…

He drew to a sudden halt, spinning in the underbrush. Lyse let out a grunt as she nearly ran straight into his armored chest.

"What in the seven hells do you think-" she began irritably, but shut her mouth as he raised a hand.

"Where's..Mother?" He asked the party, who had drawn to a halt at the sight.

Gosetsu and Lyse shot each other a look, then turned outwards to scan the sea of waving grasses.

"Gods. I didn't realize-" Lyse began contemplatively. 

Alacran hushed her, and sank down to the ground, listening to the dry rustle of the grass in the wind.

A soft snap of a twig came from about fifteen yalms away.

-=-=-

“This is the _worst!_ ” Tiel growled to herself, stopping to dig a particularly sharp seed out of her cheek.

“I mean…” she went on, wishing there was _someone_ in hornshot to actually listen “...I come all this way as the warrior of light, across frozen wastelands and through vast deserts, but it’s five-fulm grass that gets me?”

A sudden rustling in the grass had her gripping her globe in an instant, until a familiar hulking form eclipsed the blue sky above the grass-tips.

“Hey.”

She curled her lip despite herself.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you be in the vanguard?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Alacran asked, stepping forward as he noticed the thin trickle of blood smeared on her chin.

Tiel frowned.

“That’s a physical impossibility, I’m afraid. It seems I’ve met my match...in sodding _grass._ ”

Alacran drew nearer still, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Is that so. You know, I seem to recall you once made me a promise over a garden window to tell me when you’re experiencing difficulties… and you’re certainly experiencing them, far as I can see.”

He squatted down and wiped away the trickle of blood with his thumb.

Tiel stood her ground and he could sense a squabble boiling just below the surface.

"I’m fine, Alacran. I didn’t want to bother you, what with your wound. My height is working against me thanks to Gosetsu’s brilliant plan, but once I finally get to civilization and make some sodding strong coffee I'll be perfectly fine."

She frowned, then reached behind her ear, pulling out a grass seed.

“Perfectly fine, aside from becoming a _walking seed bed._ ”

Alacran cocked his head to one side and grinned.

“You don’t look fine, you look like you need a ride.”

Tiel took a step back.

“Oh no you don’t, did I not just mention your _wound_ -not to mention, what will the Au Ra in Reunion think??”

“Since when did you care what people think? You certainly didn’t care what _Ishgard_ thought last time you needed this” he retorted, holding out his arms in offering. 

She held back.

“Your chest.”

“Will be fine.”

Still she hesitated. 

“It’s not fully healed yet..”

Alacran groaned.

“I am _fine._ And while you delay, Garlemald marches and we could be in Reunion by now if you would let me take you there.”

He held out his hands again.

“Please?”

She bit her lip and tore another seed out of her arm.

“Fine. For the sake of the world, and _only_ for that.”

-=-=-

Her legs were hot against his neck, and slightly damp with sweat from the summer heat.

It was...throwing him off, making him less aware of the incoming monsters that plagued the plains as he became acutely aware that unlike the time at the ball, the legs draped against him were _bare_ and for some reason that fact was sending him into a spiral.

Perhaps Tiel could sense his unsettled state of mind, for she kept deadly silent as they rejoined Gosetsu and Lyse, ignoring their strange looks as Alacran strode past them to the fore again.

A malm went by in silence, and at last Alacran could take it no longer: an argument was better than thinking in mind-swirling silence any longer.

Stealthily, feeling half-giddy, half-mad he reached his hands up to her feet and hooked his fingers into her moccasins, delicately dragging the bluntest of his claws across the bottom of Tiel’s feet.

With a shocked shriek, she pitched back on his shoulders and he had to grasp her by the ankles before she slid off his back entirely.

With a wheeze, she pulled herself back up and angrily half-whispered in his horns.

"Alacran! Have you gone mad in the heat??!! Did you just try to _tickle my feet_?"

The panicked, irate tone was familiar enough to settle him down again, and his shoulders imperceptibly relaxed inside his plate armor.

"You were too quiet" he chuckled lowly.

Indignant fingers found their way into his hair, gripping at the roots.

"I'm going to start systematically ripping out your hair every time you do that.” she hissed, leaning closer yet. “I hope you like being prematurely bald, Alacran."

Alacran gripped her ankles tightly in horror.

"Do _that_ and I'll..I'll-"

Not for the first time that hour he recalled the last time she had rode on his shoulders.

"...I'll hold you down and nibble on your ears like they're dry bread and I'm a fresh paladin recruit-until you're screaming for mercy" he hissed.

She jolted on his shoulders again, then settled back against his armor.

"You wouldn't…" she muttered grumpily.

"Try me. I _like having hair._ " He hissed.

“One would hardly think so, judging by your actions-” she continued on, well and truly riled.

A few yalms back from the pair, Gosetsu and Lyse shook their heads at each other over the sight.

“Are they always like this?” Gosetsu quietly asked.

Lyse shrugged.

“Sadly.”

-=-=-

The encampment of traders at Reunion looked askance as Alacran walked around questioning people with Tiel still on his shoulders. By the time they found Cirina, Tiel was futilely patting Alacran on the back of the neck to "-let me down, I swear before they think we've glued ourselves together..."

A concept to which Alacran responded with a hearty laugh and finally took mercy on her: but he didn't fail to notice the piercing glance Cirina gave him as he gently helped the lalafell down.

He shrugged in the Mol's direction lightly and hoped nothing came of it.

-=-=-

Hien was surprisingly handsome, Alacran noted. 

A bit too beefcake, perhaps, and it seemed like Tiel shared the sentiment as she gave him a once up and down. 

Then he felt guilty for eying the former prince of a nation when there was a war to won.

_Are her more lascivious habits rubbing off on me?_ He wryly wondered, and fell in line with the party as they made their way to the Mol encampment.

-=-=-

The Mol were quick to set them to work hunting, but it was no particular problem for Alacran. 

If anything, the open terrain of the plains and the wide paths of the mountains that bookended the Steppe simply afforded him more room to handily win the hunting contest.

With catches delivered and strategic plans made for the days ahead the party eventually departed for bed.

A Mol girl showed the party off to different yurts: first Lyse to the group of unattached girls, then Gosetsu to a family with room to spare and so on.

Alacran and Tiel were the last left trailing behind the Mol girl as she approached the edge of the encampment.

"And here's a separate yurt for the young couple" the maiden beamed, indicating a small tent on the outskirts.

Alacran froze in his tracks.

"We are-" he began before Tiel's panicked yelp overtook his: "We're not...together!!! I'm uh, uh, a maiden of many summers, and he's my fellow hero, so you see…" 

Tiel waved her hands wildly, a dark flush bursting into bloom on her round cheeks as she uttered protestations with such force that the Mol girl looked a little terrified.

"I'm...sorry!" She squeaked, and dashed away.

"Wait! It's not your...fault" Tiel sighed as the girl quickly vanished into the meadow.

She eventually turned to Alacran with a sheepish grin.

"I suppose we'll have to bunk together then."

"Seems so." He drawled casually as possible and quietly disregarded the idea that this had the potential to go wrong in any number of ways.

-=-=-

There was only one futon.

Of course.

“Well. It’s a good thing you’re small.” Alacran remarked blandly as he unbuckled his sheath and began to doff his gauntlets.

“I could...craft another futon… I think I have some cloth in my bag…” Tiel muttered, turning away to root through her extensive inventory of miscellaneous items that Alacran always regarded as overkill.

Alacran raised an eyebrow and fiddled with the buckle to his complete.

“...thread, only sixty cotton bolls? What was I _thinking?_ " 

Her voice rose, oddly shrill as she frantically fumbled through her bags.

Alacran sighed and turned.

"It's late, Tiel, forget it. Plus, it's not like we haven't done this before-"

Her hands stilled deep in the pile of crafting materials. 

"That and _this_ are entirely different!" she snapped.

"You slept in my _lap._ " He reminded her.

"Precisely!!" She shouted, face flushed "Beds are for…family, friends, husbands and wives and lovers."

Alacran furrowed his brows.

"It's the same thing. And you just said _friends_."

" _Female friends._ You...you know, for a _romantic,_ you are _far too practical._ " She sputtered back.

"And you're the most _impractical_ person I know...” he sighed.

“Just forget the futon; we’ll both need our rest for Bardam’s Mettle. Please?”

After a long silence, she bit her lip, then slowly began shoving the stack of cotton bolls back into her bags.

-=-=-

_Do I wear my nightgown?? My dress? What do you wear to bed down in the futon as a friend, a male friend you usually only sleep with during traumatic circumstances?_

Tiel wondered as she fingered the buttons on her dress.

There was no societal more for _that_ situation, no golden teaching from school.

_Hydaelyn, if you made us Warriors of Light, couldn't you have given us an...instruction manual for the workplace?_

She lifted her brooding eyes up to watch Alacran in the wavering lamp-light as he continued to strip off his armor piece by piece.

A frown crept across his face as one of the buckles on his greaves refused to give in.

"Sodding…" he grunted under his breath, fumbling with the worn leather strap.

Tiel sighed, and left her buttons undone. 

"Let me." she stated calmly, kneeling at his feet in the murky light.

He sucked in a soft breath as she raised her fingers to the straps.

"I've had quite a lot of practice lately..." she murmured, and began to work the leather through the rough buckle.

Alacran leaned back against one of the yurt's poles and in a strange move, pressed a hand to his mouth as she worked.

"I should hire you to be my squire…" he murmured through his claws after a long moment.

"No need, I'm happy to help undress you without all the ceremonies-" Tiel absentmindedly responded as she slid the greave off with a great deal of clanking metal, then paused.

"Oh. That came out wrong." She sheepishly admitted, casting a glance up at him through the flickering lamp light.

Dark eyes, lit only by glowing limbral rings and the dying lamp stared back from far above.

"Yes." Alacran stated back, then retreated into silence.

-=-=-

In the end, Tiel settled for sleeping in her dress, and carefully balanced herself on the edge of the futon, as far away as she could get from the hulk of a man at the other side of the futon.

_I wonder why I'm bothered...it's not like I have virtue left to lose…_

_I hope I don't embarrass myself in my sleep._

-=-=-

Alacran couldn't sleep.

_Oh gods._

He had fantasized about this once upon a time in an Ul’dahn bookshop. And now it was real and it was...terrifying.

His companion had started on her side, turned away from him and laying on the very edge of the futon, but within a half-bell of falling asleep, she had rolled towards him, tugging the blanket over herself.

A soft sigh slipped from her lax mouth, and her eyebrows furrowed in her sleep as she wriggled _closer._

He ignored the urge to scoop her to him like he had done back at the House of the Fierce. 

Instead, he carefully tucked the blanket between them.

Because the image of her down on her knees at his feet still played in the back of his mind- did she _know_ what it did to a man to see her on her knees, accidentally saying _things_?

_She ought to_ his mind relentlessly reminded him. 

_The only reason she wasn't more flustered is because she doesn't see you that way._

And why did that thought bother him so much?

-=-=-

The morning crept in cool and sweet, waking Tiel from her sleep gently as she slowly became aware that she felt strangely rested and calm for her doing.

She opened her eyes and gazed at the roof of the yurt, mentally sliding through the reasons that could possibly be, considering that they were on the _road_. 

_The air? No, not warm enough..._

A slow, low rumble was undercutting said air, she realized with a sudden thrill and she turned her head eagerly to meet the snorer before she remembered exactly who she was sharing a futon with.

No elezen met her eye- _right, swore them off-_ instead, Alacran lay but a fulm away. 

His hand was beside her, knuckles brushing her stomach gently with every swell of her breath.

Carefully, she thrust herself up on the bedroll by the arms and stared down at the man's sleeping face as a ray of early-light slipped across his throat and horns.

A tiny snort slipped out of her nose before she could stifle it.

In sleep, while unwounded, his face was a thousand years younger: the perpetual furrow in his brow smoothed away into soft skin between his glossy scales and his eyelashes hid the eyes that were always so piercing and old.

Eyelashes that were much longer than you might expect: only she knew to expect _that_ by now.

_It's not fair that you've longer lashes than I do._

She smiled, then slowly extricated herself from the blanket to go stoke a fire. 

It was time to figure out how to make coffee over...a pile of flaming dung. 

The lalafell ignored an insidious idea that crept into her head even as she meted out spoonfuls of coffee into a linen cloth.

_Too dangerous._

Too dangerous to think that maybe the reason she had slept so well was that even now, she could hear his breathing, _isn't this nice_ -

Her spoon was trembling, and she glared at her hand.

"Behave."

-=-=-

Bardam's Mettle hit hard and fast, but the Warriors of Light emerged on the other side in record time, and soon regrouped with Lyse, Gosetsu and Hien...only to be surrounded by Oronir.

“You! Yea, you who have walked Bardam’s Mettle. Newborn warriors of the Steppe. Our Khan demands an audience. You will come.” an imperious Xaela commanded the party.

Tiel groaned under her breath and shoved her new rings she'd gleaned from the trial further up her stubby fingers.

" _Another walk._ "

"No rest for the wicked" Alacran muttered under his breath, and extended his arms to Tiel.

"Ready for yet another bullshite side trek?" he asked as he helped her back up onto her shoulders, seeing as the Oronir looked as though they wouldn't let them use their new Yol.

_Bastards_.

-=-=-

“Most radiant brother Magnai. We have brought the ones you seek."

The Oronir leader presented the group to a man on a throne that was frankly less impressive than he clearly thought it was.

Tiel restrained a smirk. 

_Probably not a good idea to weigh Ul'dahn wealth and interior design against a bunch of tribes._

Magnai was clearly arrogant, but his frame moved in a way that showed there was physical power to back the attitude up: heavily muscled shoulders pulled at his clothes in such a way that she could feel the urge surging within her to offer some tailoring assistance. 

_He would look fabulous in a gored coat…_ she mused quietly.

But Magnai's right hand man was talking now of tribute of a different sort.

“-Tribute, should it prove satisfactory, shall earn you the favor of the Sun. His beloved shall bask in His radiance, and their supplications be duly considered.”

Tiel licked her sun-cracked lips and smirked.

In the end, the posturing of a tribal leader was nothing compared to the weight of the sultanate: an institution she had witnessed first-hand before fleeing Ul Dah.

_That said, I wouldn’t mind paying ‘tribute’ to a specimen of a man like that._

-=-=-

Negotiations were dragging on, and Alacran amused himself by examining every guard's stance, and finally how broad Magnai's chest was. Probably a warrior, judging by the muscles, and the large axe buried in the stump next to the throne…

_He should be a good match in the Nadaam._

Eventually, it ended as all things did: with everyone being set menial tasks.

“Typical” he grunted to Tiel, and prepared to check out ahead of time by clearing a portion of his mind to begin speculating on new novel characters. Maybe he’d base his next villain on Magnai...

-=-=-

Several chores later found him and Tiel nestled down in the grass, listening to an Oronir elder deliver an oral history of the legend of Azim and Nhaama-a story Alacran found quite sweet, actually. 

“-So you see, for every son of Azim is a daughter of Nhaama for whom he must search. Even now.” The elder finished grandly, then locked eyes with Alacran.

“Even you, wanderer.”

Alacran resisted the urge to laugh: for in this only vaguely familiar homeland, how could he of all people be fated to be here, seeking out some bride?

_Surely not._

-=-=-

_Is that so?_ Tiel wondered privately as the storyteller bade them goodbye.

Did destiny really bind the fates of Au ra together, or was it a pretty tale?

She held her tongue as Hien thanked the man for his time and fell into quiet contemplation as she followed behind Hien and Alacran as they returned to Magnai for a final audience.

As they walked, she looked around the encampment, staring at the few couples she saw gathered together, sitting by the fires as they ate.

They all looked...happy enough together.

_Were they all fated by some great, mythical power of eld?_

Alacran at last turned to look at her as he opened the door to the Throne.

“Ready, Tiel?” he asked calmly, not a hint of anything showing on his face.

She looked up at him, brows furrowed.

_Do you put stock in it? Is there someone here for you and you just don’t know?_

_What happens if the fate of a warrior of light clashes with the fate of two gods?_

-=-=-

Magnai wasn’t about to let his new labor source go just yet, it seemed, for a recon mission into another tribe was in the cards, one that was being fueled by _hostages._

Alacran’s opinion of the Khan was going from bad to worse as he watched Hien sigh and accept his position as hostage-in-waiting. 

The _oh so illustrious_ khan surveyed the rest of the group, preparing to pick the next hostage.

Alacran, for his part, folded his arms and glared at the man with the highest amount of hostility he dared bare without causing a tribal fracture.

Then the Khan got up from his throne and walked _far too close_ to Tiel and Lyse for Alacran’s comfort.

“I’m not doing without my heal-” Alacran muttered under his breath, but Magnai spoke over him with words that left Alacran’s nostrils flaring.

“I doubt either of you are the moon I seek, but stranger tales have been told- and men are of no use to me…”

Alacran was pretty sure his jaw was twitching.

Lyse seemed equally off put.

“I don’t know what any of this “moon” stuff is that he’s going on about-”

_But I do_ Alacran thought darkly.

“-But I don’t like the sound of it. At all.” the hyur, tipping her head at Magnai with a slight curl of the lip.

_No shit, Lyse_ Alacran silently simmered as Magnai stepped back and smirked contemptuously;having seemingly searched the eyes of both the women present and found them wanting.

“...No, of course not. The woman I seek is of the dusk- a gentle, ethereal maiden. A dancer in the morning mist.”

_Thank the Twelve._

“You are Warriors of the Steppe-fierce and brutal, conquerors of magicked stone and steel. Ethereal you are not.” Magnai mused, with a somewhat insulting tone.

Alacran heaved a sigh of both relief and contempt-

And then Tiel suddenly piped up with a sly smile.

"I may not be ethereal, but I am most certainly _aetherial._ I could very well be your rolanberry!" 

Magnai blinked vacantly, looking confused for a half step.

Alacran fought back the instant urge to grind his knuckles into Tiel’s skull.

" _Nitwit. He's the Khan! Don't flirt!_ " He hissed down at her, horrified.

Thankfully Magnai seemed more confused than intrigued, something Alacran would be _eternally grateful_ for.

_She does not belong in this throne room. She does not belong here…_ he thought viciously, longing to scream "sod it all" and leave the Steppe entirely rather than to deal with His Royal Turd.

For her part, Tiel held off on further flirting and merely patted Lyse reassuringly on the leg as the woman was selected as the second hostage; leaving Alacran, Tiel and Gosetsu to scout out the Dotharl.

The rest of the proceedings carried on more or less without incident, but Alacran scarcely remembered what Magnai said. 

Instead, he merely stood and stared at _her._

Because more than anything, it just didn’t make _sense._

_She likes pretty elezen with silver hair and sweet words...not...arrogant, rough and tumble tribesmen who talk down to her and make her run chores when really she could afford to make them run errands._

Which left only one possibility:

_She fancies him regardless._

-=-=-

The sun was out, Tiel liked xaela all of the sudden, it would be grand if the Ascians would end the world any minute now to put Alacran out of his misery as he continued to try to figure out what she _saw_ in Magnai.

Well, until he met Sadu, anyway.

The Dotharl leader was all bared teeth and feral confidence: a combination that was _most charming_ , Alacran privately thought, even as Gosetsu seemed taken aback by the woman’s casual nature with regards to death.

She only improved the longer one kept her company: proving herself a bold leader with zero intent of subterfuge, even if her manner was callous at best.

After gaining yet another lesson or two on Xaela traditions, the party returned to the Dawn Throne and finally obtained permission to return to the Mol, Lyse and Hien in tow.

And Alacran fingered his sword in anticipation.

-=-=-

“I’m taking a quick detour, need to send some letters home!” Tiel called, gesturing towards Reunion as the party trudged back Onsal Hakair.

Lyse groaned as she ran a hand through her extremely greasy hair.

“Gods, please make it quick- I need to dunk myself in a stream as soon as possible.”

“Ye--es!” 

-=-=-

_-Dear children:_

_If I receive one more missive from Vi-deo and Rolan about how you stole jam from the commander or fell asleep instead of studying I will take the next aetheryte home and strap the both of you soundly-never mind that you're both almost of age-_

-=-=-

_-Dearest Totoru:_

_My linkpearl is seemingly out of range here on the steppe, so I’m writing a quick note to let you know I am well-aside from the infernal grass-but Totoru, it is so strange here._

_In Limsa, Alacran towered over the crowds-one can find him at a glance._

_But here, he fades away into the plains and midst the encampments he melts away in the throng of warriors and traders like he belongs._

_Everyone here is ridiculously tall-or every man, anyway._

_And I am...barely noticeable._

_Perhaps soon I shall be lost in the grasses and when he turns around, I'll be gone._

_I think the steppe wind makes you mad- do you know, sometimes I smell flowers at night. Musky, tropical._

_Not anything that grows here-_

-=-=-

In Onsal Hakair, preparations for the Naadaam were well underway: the encampment bustled back and forth with Mol sharpening weapons, dressing in coats of red and pink.

Cirina ran out to meet them with a deeply relieved expression.

"Thank the gods you are all right! When you failed to return, I feared the worst-

But here you are, hale and whole! And you survived Bardam’s Mettle! Though you look quite the worse for it… Come, come.”

She led them swiftly into the fray of preparing Mol and softly pressed piles of robes into their arms.

“Please change, you all look worn to the bone and it’s best to stand together in one color to prevent friendly fire” she softly requested. "The brook yonder is good for washing in, should you wish."

Befuddled, Alacran took the robes pressed upon him and shook them out: they were long and woolen, lined with leather and covered with heavy embroidery done in metallic threads.

A soft enchantment hummed through the thread, something just barely tangible, like the scent of tomes that weren’t quite _there._

Lyse heaved a sigh of heavy relief and winked at Alacran.

“Race you to the water?”

Alacran grinned a feral grin.

"You’re on. Tiel, you coming?” he called over to Tiel, who was fingering the embroidery with a look in her eye that said she was about to study how it was done, come hell or high water.

“Nope…” she mumbled back and stumbled towards their yurt.

“Your loss!” Lyse laughed, then turned and sprinted at full tilt.

Alacran clutched his clothes to his chest and dashed after the hyur, even as he heard Gosetsu groan deeply behind them about “ _practically children_ ” as the older man followed at a slower pace.

-=-=-

“Looking good!” Lyse called over to Alacran as he stood up behind a carefully chosen shrub to pull the coat on over his still-damp shoulders.

It fit like a glove-unlike any of the shirts he bought cheaply from the marketplace;

fitted to the waist, flaring up over the widening of the back, sleeve deep set for maximum movement...

He caught his reflection in the stream: a dappled, hazy version of a man-

His father stared back at him.

The memory was fuzzy, he'd only been six when they parted, but the black and white hair was just like him...just like.

The reflection blurred, and he squatted down in the dirt to compose himself.

“Alacran?” Lyse called from the other side of the bush.

“‘M fine…” he called back, sucking in a deep breath.

-=-=-

Now freshly bathed and changed, Alacran stepped into _the_ yurt; only to be pelted in the face with a blood-covered coat.

“Oi! Get out while I’m changing!” screamed Tiel, yanking a skirt up against her chest in indignation.

“We may be sharing a tent, but that doesn’t mean you can’t knock!”

"On what, the cloth??!" He sputtered, dragging his eyes away from the sight of soft, golden brown shoulders and made a rapid exit.

"I don't know, say 'knock knock' or something!" She yelled from inside the yurt.

He sighed, and took a seat on the ground. 

This would probably take a while.

It did. 

Ten whole minutes went by before she stepped out of the yurt with a soft rustle of woolen cloth.

He forgot how to breathe as she shook her heavy skirts down, releasing dust from the black and green embroidery.

“Not bad!” she proclaimed, whirling about in a wide circle while lifting her star globe aloft to check the give of the long, fitted sleeves.

His heart clenched as the setting sun illuminated her face with a golden glow and he cleared his throat shakily.

“You look a bit like the children from my...past. I think...they had dresses like that, except green and black?”

“Ohhh” she hummed, inspecting the embroidery with even more appreciation.

“They did give me a child’s dress after all, so that makes sense...”

“It feels...strange.” he admitted, taking in her small form, framed against the yurt.

She peered at him with a strange look in her eyes.

“Like you’ve come home?”

“Not...quite.” he stammered, and turned away.

_Like I’m home, but you’re there instead of Mother and Father._

-=-=-

The moon was out, and Alacran shot up from his bedroll panting, his chest slick with sweat.

Tiel stirred across the futon, and he stifled his gasps with a trembling hand.

Every one of his senses felt like a live wire, tingling, resounding in his mind.

The xaela pitched back on his bed, but every minute the sounds of the night world grew louder.

He _couldn’t_ sleep, and so the hour of midnight found him slowly rising from his futon, quietly taking his sword and a bow and quiver and stealing away from the yurt.

One of the guards stopped him at the edge of the encampment, a xaela girl with blonde hair that gleamed white under the moon.

“It’s the hour of widdershins, you shouldn’t be out.” she murmured, raising her staff in warning.

The moon called silently.

“I know.” he whispered back, but took another step.

Something strange must have crawled across his face, for she stepped aside dazedly.

“Your funeral.”

“Thanks.”

He vanished into the liquid dark, feet falling soft on the grass and limbral rings lighting his way under the pale sliver of moon hung in the sky.

His senses sharpened fraction by fraction, and when the scent of fresh dung hit his nose, blue trickled into his vision at last in a wave so familiar he could have cried.

At some point he’d begun running, sword drawn, wind whistling in his ears.

Nature was laughing silently, he could _feel it._

He leapt over a spring with a single, powerful bound-bless au ra thighs-and dropped into the tall grass with a deep roll. 

He laid a horn to the ground… ah, there, to the west.

The gentle shuffling of hooves.

He bared his teeth.

_Let the hunt begin._

One animal, ten. 

He came upon them and blissfully slew them one by one, sword blow after sword blow.

And still the plain called, no, begged.

Further, greater _prey._

_There._

He rained down death, sliced through the cavernous throat of his foe… and then saw the ribs of a garlean prince, felt the long hair of Zenos wrap about his arms, could almost hear the prince croon a battle-cry, choked with thick blood.

He pitched back onto the grass and threw up, and when he stood again, the phantom prince’s ribs were only a buffalo sliced open, the hair only matted clumps of fur, and the gurgling voice nothing but the death rattle of a creature who had already passed on.

“Something in me has gone wrong” he muttered, dropping his blood-slick sword before rolling over and mashing his face in the soft, earthy grass.

-=-=-

He returned as the sun pinked the horizon with the tantalizing promise of a warm, grassy day.

“Welcome back!” chirruped Tiel, bustling around the yurt, gathering up sachets of spices that somehow were scattered _everywhere_. She waved him in and gasped as the stew pot over the fire bubbled over. 

“AAHH NOOO!!” she screamed and dove for the ladle.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he took off his pack.

“Having a little trouble there?”

She groaned and stirred the pot furiously.

“I’m _terrible_ at open-fire cooking; clearly I’ve been spoiled by our lovely ovens and stoves at home…”

“Some master culinarian you are” he jibed, and pulled out his catch.

“I knooow…” she groaned “Oh lovely! is that rabbit? Toss it in here, would you?”

He complied, dropping in the meat carefully so as not to splash the flustered little cook, and then sat down with a sigh to await breakfast.

“Soo. You were gone when I woke up in the middle of the night to answer the call of nature.” she began conversationally.

"Went out for a hunt."

She blinked. 

"You hunted...all night?"

“Yes. Good time to."

She flicked unimpressed eyes up and down his slightly blood spattered clothes.

“Uhuh. Sure you won’t be exhausted tomorrow for the Naadam?”

"Better exhausted but warmed up than exhausted and irritated. Besides, we still have one night.” he sighed, then suddenly realized his hands were shaking.

And of course Tiel’s healer's eyes fell upon them straight away.

"That...looks like more than an all nighter to me."

He actually _bit_ his lip, unwilling to let the words spill out; memories that had been crawling up out of his gut into his head for days, ever since the first scent of his birthplace hit his nose.

Tiel’s gaze softened from keen calculation to professional distress. In a moment she had clambered around the fire and was standing before him, a sincere look burning in her grey eyes.

"Tell me, Alacran. You know me better than anyone else alive, let me know _you_."

His heart pitched in his chest and rather than face her, he decided to stare down at his hands.

“I…”

His hands that still had blood on them. 

_His blood is always on your hands_ a memory hissed, louder than it had been in years.

And then her hands closed around his, smudging and hiding the blood underneath brown fingers and chipped pink nails, squeezing tight.

“They’re not… it’s not good.” he protested softly, even as the touch of her hands seemed to pull the air out of his lungs.

She only laughed, low and breathless.

“Please. We both know _I’m_ not good. I hardly think you’re going to top me.”

His lips parted and then closed in futility.

Slowly, slowly she stepped forward, turning and lifting his hands up to her lips as she stepped over his crossed legs.

Alacran’s breath hitched in his throat, a lump forming as he watched the drying blood come away from his skin on her lips.

“Take your time.” she quietly instructed, stroking her thumbs across his knuckles and slowly sinking down on his lap.

She didn’t let go and with no escape, at last he began to speak.

"When I was...seven, my father took me on my first hunting trip. I had been average with the bow in target practice, generally weak in swords, decent at knives. An utterly unremarkable kid…"

He closed his eyes and saw for the hundredth time the day everything changed.

_“Remember, aim ahead-” his father whispered in his ear as Alacran took aim with his bow._

_“Yes, father” he whispered back, then shuddered as suddenly a strange feeling blossomed in his thin chest and flew up to his head in an instant._

_“Ah...ah-” he gasped, fingers clenching tightly around the bow, arrow clattering against the grip._

_“Apsat?” his father worriedly whispered, scanning him up and down._

_“I-” he gasped, staring ahead as the dzo began to move._

_It looked strange, wreathed in blue light._

_The world pulsed white, blue, his ears rung…_

_A voice spoke without words, but words all the same._

_Hear_

_Feel_

_Think-_

_There._

_His hands loosed the arrow with a shot so true and bright his eyes saw it fly like a shooting star, and the world exploded back into color as the dzo toppled._

“I heard my parents call me a prodigy that night. A prodigy hunter.” Alacran sighed.

Tiel looked thoughtful.

“The echo came that early?”

“Yes. And not like yours or like Krile’s; with the fountain of mana, with the clear visions of the past. It...it just tells me how to best wield the weapon in my hands. When I try for the visions that you two have, they always come through half-blurred.”

He snorted softly.

“That’s why I let you two do the talking when it’s Vision Time.”

Tiel only smiled encouragingly up at him, and kept holding on.

He could feel his voice soften as he went on, until she had to lean forward to hear, until the crackle of the fire almost blotted his voice out.

“-I did well, too well. The head’s son had before been known as the most promising child in our tribe. That changed swiftly when I joined the men for the annual long hunt before winter.

I out-shot, out bagged him every time. Couldn’t _not_ with Hydaelyn herself guiding my hands, teaching me how to be her warrior.

It was the last day of the expedition and we were just an hour’s ride away from the encampment when I saw it: 

_A beautiful baras, in its prime. Albino._

_Alacran immediately thought of his mother’s winter coat: old and worn._

_Saw the white fur against her skin, and her bright smile-the only thing he could remember now-and he nocked the arrow immediately and shot true. A single moment later, another arrow followed- this one with the familiar black-feather fletching._

_The head’s son’s arrow._

_The baras fell as both arrows struck true._

_Together, they leapt from their horses._

_Together they raced to the fallen creature as the rest of the hunting party held back, unwilling to sort out yet another argument._

_“Saw it first, saw it first!!” the boy snapped at Alacran as they halted by the dead beast._

_All Alacran could remember about him now was furious teeth, furious hands in fists._

_“My arrow hit it first. I was a moment ahead of you.” Alacran calmly stated as he drew his knife, positioning himself to skin the creature._

_“Bullshite-”_

_The boy screamed and swung at him from behind._

_Alacran could sense it coming, a soaring blue force from his back-right-_

_No time to duck._

_His body moved, unnatural and fluid as the now-familiar power blossomed in his chest and traveled through every vein, contorting his form, whipping him down, side, around-in...in?_

_Knife in the back of the neck, severing the spine in a single, elegant blow._

_Distant screams came back, sounds before his blurred, icy vision._

_Hands dragging him back, men beating him around the body, head, head-_

_The world came back in a blur of red as his own blood sprayed his skin, came back in a symphony of pain as his arms were tied and his ribs broken._

“The head held back from killing me. His idea of mercy was to exile my family. Separate my mother from her sisters, pitch us alone and penniless in the wilderness.” 

Here came the hard part.

“I...as I watched our tribe, our home ride away forever...my mother…”

_Mother knelt in the dirt in front of him, tear tracks still glistening down her face and jaw held in place, held so-tight. Came so very close with a whitened face and gripped his shoulders with iron-fingers until it hurt, until her bones were pressed into his._

_"I need you to promise me that you'll never use this to hurt a person again, Apsat."_

_“I…” he cried._

_"Never ever." She shook him like a leaf, eyebrows wrinkling up._

_"Never. Ever." He promised with a throat that burnt._

-=-=-

“So that’s why…” Tiel murmured to herself, stroking his knuckles even now.

Alacran licked his lips, watching the motion dully.

“After that. After that, three days later we ran into slave traders. If it hadn’t been for me. For this… they wouldn’t be...”

He dug his claws into his palm and closed his eyes.

_I can’t see her face. I can’t see her be disgusted for using the Echo for-_

Small fingers inserted themselves into the curl of his, prying them up.

"...none of that…" he heard from far away.

Slowly, he opened his eyes as each finger came up slowly, pushed along by her determined, steely hands.

Tiel smiled sweetly up at him, even as she pried his hands open.

"It wasn't your fault. I understand how it feels to be pushed along by powers that aren't fully your own."

"But you can _control_ yours; especially now, I've _seen_ you." He protested, slowly pulling his hands away from hers.

Tiel sighed sympathetically. 

"Alacran, I only learned through a _lot_ of practice, practice with a weapon so unfamiliar it let my power only seep through bit by bit to begin with."

She chased after his hands, grasping them sincerely in hers.

"I know you promised, but I also know that the man you are now is so, so _different_ from that boy. And your circumstances are so different. I’m… I’m sure your mother would say it’s alright if she could see you now..” Her eyes were glossy he realized, so close to tears, just like his mother-

“Alacran. You’re a hero, not a murderer. And as long as you are the same person who was so kind as to promise me safety by your side, then...hic..” 

She really was crying now, but the usual stomach-lurch of horror he felt at the sight wasn’t there.

Instead Alacran suddenly realized he was also crying, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Tiel smiled and pulled his left hand up to her cheek, leaned against it softly.

“Then I’m sure that even if you use it in battle from now on, you’ll come out on the other side without having killed anyone innocent.”

Alacran shook his head furiously.

"I’ve considered it so many times, but every time I can only think of waking from the trance and finding that...someone I care about has died by my hand this time."

_That I’ll be holding your lifeless corpse in my eyes._

She searched his eyes and somehow seemed to know his thoughts.

"You're not going to kill me."

"You...can't know that." He hissed, pressing his fingers to her skin. Still alive. Still here.

Tiel grinned against all his doubts.

"Yes I can: I've _seen_ you. At Sosoyati’s. You didn't kill me then, and I doubt you ever would. Besides, if you tried, it would take a very long time! Think of all the spells I can use on myself."

Aghast, he withdrew his hand.

"Oh _gods,_ don't joke like that."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Let me tell you one thing, then. When I see you going all out like that, even if _you_ aren't really there, you look... _happy._ I like you being happy."

"Happy that I'm killing?!" he laughed incredulously.

"Happy to be using your abilities to their full extent. I think anyone with a great deal of power probably enjoys that feeling."

“I barely want to use it against people, let alone want to enjoy it.”

Again she shrugged.

“Then don’t enjoy it. But we need it. For Zenos. And if it’s Zenos, then wouldn’t you be alright with using it?”

Alacran remembered the Garlean prince, remembered the chest wound that still panged on wet mornings.

Remembered the man’s overwhelming strength.

“Yes. For _him._ But if I go too far-”

She beamed.

"I'll pull you back. Remember, Rescue?"

“Of course I do. A terrifying invention, one that I’m sure you won’t abuse _at all._ ”

She chuckled, then grinned. 

“Trust me. You always have.”

“I...have, yes.”

Softly, he held out his arms.

“I’ll continue to try.”

She came into his arms with her own outstretched. 

-=-=-

The hug went on for a solid few minutes, full of warmth and brushing tears away.

At some point, Tiel found she had laid her head against her friend’s chest, listened to the heartbeat thud strongly inside.

_He’s worked so long without even using the gift Hydaelyn gave us_ she thought between beats.

_He deserves more than a destiny of serving the world endlessly._

_-=-=-_

“Good afternoon!” Tiel called out as she slipped into Temulun’s yurt.

“Ah, Warrior.” the aged woman called out, eyes crinkling around the edges.

“The time is soon nigh, it would seem”

“Indeed-” Tiel hesitated, then stepped in close.

“A word. Should we win the Nadaam tomorrow, will your tribe assume control of the Dawn Throne?"

“It goes against our call to wander, but I confess that I have sat and contemplated the duty of the victor all last night.” The woman admitted, bowing her head.

Tiel nodded. 

“I confess, so have I.”

Temulan took a deep breath.

“The victor need not be suited, it is enough that they are chosen. But in truth we are not prepared for it, and I am too old to bring the whelps of Oronir to heel."

Tiel swallowed thickly.

"And what if you had someone who could?"

Tulumen looked her calmly up and down.

"Volunteering?" She asked with a glint in her scarlet eyes.

Tiel let out a scandalized gasp, eyes twinkling.

"No, no! Hear me out-"

-=-=-

Alacran spent the day dumbly sharpening swords, encouraging those with weapons, pushing callow youths through different step formations and laying out strategies with Hien.

_Forgiveness. Warm eyes, warm hands, dry and callused, soft breaths. Forgiven for a sin almost two decades old-_

“Are you quite alright, Cero?” Hien asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Mmh? Yeah...yes. Yes, actually. More than.” 

Hien laughed heartily.

“Well, let us hope that we all turn out just as fine on the morrow!”

-=-=-

The day of the Nadaam, Tiel woke in the early morning light, feeling warm and honey-sweet happy.

Slowly she wriggled closer to the sweet creature in her bed, warm and cozy as the vestiges of sleep trickled away. 

Then she froze in place, realizing she was pressed deep against Alacran's chest, cheek laid up against one meaty pectoral. She pulled back carefully and realized that _oh_ , he had slept shirtless.

Drowsily she slid her eyes down his exposed stomach, leaned in carefully to trace the shapes of his few scars with fingers hovering slightly above his skin.

She wasn't eager to poke the beast as she didn't want to see what happened when someone tried attacking him in his sleep, but there was nothing to stop her looking up and down, examining him for any old wounds that might act up.

_And only that. Certainly._

The sounds of the encampment waking up began to filter in through the cloth walls of their tent and Alacran made a discontented noise in his sleep, shifting. 

A muscular arm suddenly rolled off of his side, draping over her and with a grunt, he drew her tight against his chest.

She held breathlessly still, her cheeks flushing red.

_Do not move. Do not._

_He would be mortified to find you in his arms._

She steadfastly ignored the fact that alright, his chest was _very nice_ to be pressed against. 

Extricating herself was top priority.

Except there was no escape without stirring him, no real option except...to pretend to be asleep when he awoke.

At least then the blame could be on either of them.

So she closed her eyes, synced her breathing to his, low and slow so that it wouldn’t seem unnatural-

She drifted away in a wave of warmth against her will.

When the lalafell woke, she was tucked carefully under the blankets and Alacran was up toasting bread over the fire.

“Good morning. Happy Naadam day?” he called.

“Yes? Yes.” she murmured dumbly, scrabbling to her feet.

“Toast.” Alacran offered bluntly.

“Toast indeed.”

Tiel watched him demolish several pieces in quick succession as she nibbled away at hers.

“You slept...well” he offered at last.

Clearly he was trying to figure out how he had woken up with her in his arms. 

“Like a baby” she stated casually. 

It was the truth, after all.

“I see.” 

He said nothing more, clearly having decided to just...move on.

_As expected_ she internally laughed.

And for a moment she questioned the utterly insane moral quandary of whether lying to her companion from henceforth about there being only one inn room left no matter where they went was ethical. 

It would certainly improve her sleep schedule, because evidently being in the man’s presence was like taking a double shot of pure chamomile.

_Stop that, you don’t manipulate people any more. Definitely._

At last Alacran stood and buckled on his sword.

"Right, we’ve a tournament to win.”

“Coming!” she called, and snuffed the fire out.

  
  



	15. Hunt On: Walking Widdershins Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ehhh it's not perfect by a long shot but i've stared at the formatting long enough.
> 
> next chapter comes whenever i figure out what I want to write next, enjoy for now!  
> 

“May the gods guide you to victory.” Temulun called behind Alacran and Tiel’s backs as they mounted up on their Yol amidst the small throng of Mol warriors that had congregated in the early morning sun.

“Ready, Cirina?” Alacran called ahead to the slender woman who seemed to be preparing to lead the charge, despite her nature of being a bow-woman.

“Yes! And you and yours?” she called back with just a hint of steel in her voice.

Alacran smiled as he nodded back and privately thought that perhaps she had more of a Khagan in her than met the eye.

Temulun raised her withered hand and pointed ahead with strangely stony eyes to a golden pillar of light that was rising to the open sky.

Cirina sucked in a breath at the sight.

“Then it begins, Grandmother.”

Temulun nodded slowly, then turned and began to walk away, hands woven in silent prayer.

“We will await your return with prayer..” she called out to her kinsfolk as she moved in the midst of the saddling warriors.

At the edge of the throng, the old woman turned one last time to stare at the beacon of light that signaled the beginning of the hunt.

“Ciri...The gods will do what they must...but it is my selfish wish that you come home unharmed.” she murmured under her breath, and patted Tiel’s yol softly.

“Best of luck.”

Tiel grinned down at the old khagan. 

“You shan’t outlive her. I promised.”

-=-=-

Down hillside and through valley they charged, until the Budugan forced the Mol to the ground with spears and arrows at a river bank.

Gosetsu stayed to hold the horde back as the rest of the party tore on across the plain towards the ovoo, losing more party members in the fray as they went, until only the warriors of light, Hien, Cirina and a handful of Mol remained.

“There it is! The ovoo! We are not too late!” Cirina called back on the wind as they ran towards the ray of golden light.

“The fighting is most fierce! No matter─charge!” Hien called.

Alacran tossed a look at Tiel and drew his sword.

“With you!” she called, and the Bole slipped upon him in an instant, wrapping him in a magical embrace as a trio of Oronir ran forward to meet them.

A few good strikes of his sword and they fell back, holding wounds that bled out in a ruby spray that did more to ignite his furor than he’d like to admit.

It ignited even further when a Gravity enveloped them, crushing them into the earth viciously.

“Heh.” Tiel snorted, sidling up beside him.

“Shall we?” Alacran asked, already striding forward.

“Don’t even have to ask!” she half-sung as she wove a Balance out of the air to settle in his veins, sharpening his sword and his senses.

Together, they met the tide of Oronir and brought them down until Hien called out across the fray “They falter! Now, warriors─claim the ovoo!”

“Got it!” Alacran called back and surged to his left, aiming for the glowing pillar of light.

Tiel followed in his footsteps, shuffling cards in a mad whirlwind, sending their blessings out to every Mol along their path to the ovoo.

Side by side, they burst out of the throng and fell to the glowing ground.

“What do I do??” Alacran asked frantically, feeling feral aether lick up his skin. Then came voices, soft and sweet, half there in his ears, half in his mind-

_Lo, he’s here they’re here parting was sorrow-_

“What is _that_ -” he asked but somehow knew already, the world of midnight rushing back, of laughter felt more than heard.

"Spirits. They'll have to be channeled, I’m guessing-" Tiel instructed, and then-

Chains ripped through the air, wrapping around her body, dragging her back.

_Holmgang_ Alacran knew at once, his hand flying to his sword.

Magnai stood at the edge of the throng of battling au ra, holding the chains that bound Tiel in place.

“What folly is this? Who dares to challenge the Sun?” he growled, shaking the chains until Tiel raised a furious look at him. 

" _I,_ the aether-gifted-" 

"-And _I_ " Alacran cut in, dashing forward to come between Magnai and Tiel.

A feral grin crawled across Magnai's lips at the sight.

“ _You_ came, as I knew you would…” the man growled, eyes flicking up and down Alacran’s poised form “For you too are a warrior of the Steppe. I salute you, traveler, and should be honored to face you alone…”

The xaela's voice trailed off as he turned his head slightly and stepped back “But the Dotharl thirst for blood and will suffer no duels.” he called, turning to face a surging pack of xaela dressed in bright blue as they cascaded onto the scene, claws and teeth bared.

"Hearken to the chaos, brothers!" Sadu screamed at their fore, clenching her staff.

"Lo, the mad udgan comes!" Magnai bellowed and led his men to meet them, even as Hien plunged out of the midst to clap a hand to Alacran’s shoulder. 

“Still alive, Alacran?” Alacran raised an eyebrow at the prince, but Hien only beamed jovially. “Good! If we want to claim the ovoo, we’ll need to deal with those two first!” 

“On it.” Alacran grunted, and sprinted forward as Sadu screamed “In death do our souls _sing_ !” and summoned two _very large_ stone creatures.

“Yet another thing to cut down...” Tiel sighed, following in his wake as she cast combust over and over upon every man and woman in her way.

Cirina stumbled to the astrologian’s side in the chaos, her bow hand dripping ruby-red blood.

“Please, heal me Mother” she panted, extending her hand. 

Tiel wrenched up the woman’s sliced sleeve to reveal a sword-slash curving around her forearm, sunk deep into the flesh wherever there were no scales. Where there were scales… the scales were crushed, pitted deep into the arm, great bruises already forming around them. 

“Tch. _This_ is why he wears gauntlets, I see.” Tiel muttered, passing her hands over the cut first. A benefic staved the bleeding and an aspected benefic continued the healing process for her. 

“Behind you!” Cirina suddenly hissed, reaching for a dagger with her good hand.

“Oh, I _know._ ” Tiel stated coldly. “ _Lightspeed.”_

Cirina watched in awe as the lalafell didn’t even spin around as she cast malefic after malefic, ripping into the would-be attacker until they fell to their knees.

“I’ll dilate an aspected benefic for now, see me after the battle. Come, let’s back up Alacran.” the healer briskly instructed as she drew another card.

Cirina nodded, wide eyed and drew another arrow as she followed in the warrior’s wake.

-=-=-

Alacran should have known to check his sword before the battle. He _knew_ it was getting old, that he hadn’t replaced it in eons.

But here it was, snapped in half after hacking Sadu’s stone things to dust and rubble.

And a Dotharl wielding an axe was staring him down.

They grinned toothily and charged forward.

_No time to think, no time to do anything except…._

_Hear_

_Feel_

_Think._

Blue light coursed through his eyes, flooded his mind straight through down into the nerves.

In a moment, he had lunged under the axe swing and slammed the broken sword upwards into the warrior's arm.

With a pained howl, the man dropped the axe and lurched back, clutching his arm. 

Alacran grabbed the axe off the ground and lifted it aloft, nearly stumbling as he realized swinging an axe was _much different_ than a sword.

The sounds of battle faded around him and the world narrowed down into a siphon of senses. 

_He’ll dodge left._

_Now._

Alacran dove forward, swinging the axe with every onze of strength, slicing straight into the man’s side.

Down he went, and Alacran hefted the axe contemplatively, feeling the heave of it out.

His teeth were bared and his hands were slick with blood he gradually realized as the sounds of the world returned.

And then came the sound of his long-time companion, clucking her tongue as a benefic settled into the few cuts he had.

"Gracious, you went on a rampage! Seems like you have a talent for the axe…” Tiel smiled as she finished closing up the wounds.

Cirina eyed him warily from a few paces away, bow drawn. Something in her wary stance made him think he must look _awful._

But Tiel merely folded up her astrolabe with a sigh and dug around in her pocket.

"I didn't want to give up on valuable practice, but warriors and astrologians are _not_ a good combination, in my experience..."

She pulled her white mage stone out with red-stained fingers and grinned.

“Shall we?”

He felt a grin split his face at the familiar stone and Cirina took two steps back at the sight of it.

-=-=-

The warriors of light tore their way through the battlefield towards the ovoo yet again, pushing back the horde of Dotharl and Oronir with swift precision as Cirina took up their rearguard, firing at any stray attackers.

But even as the slender au ra sighted and fired shot after shot, the pair of warriors ahead of her continued to wreak devastation far faster than she could fire.

The reticent paladin who had always looked so distant and quiet to Cirina was now painted with faint sprays of blood as he hacked his way through the horde of xaela with ever-growing precision. 

Cirina shuddered at the sight of people toppling, clutching deep wounds as the man almost _laughed_ with feral glee.

“And grandmother would offer him the throne???” she murmured to herself even as she ran inventory on how many arrows she had left.

Certainly, nobody ever begrudged the losses suffered in the Naadam, it being the working of fate, but _that._

_That_ was something beyond the pale.

And the healer who had so efficiently knitted her bow-hand back together was no less terrifying: up ahead, the tiny woman flung her staff high with all the commanding presence of Sadu Dotharl herself and Cirina _felt_ the winds of the very desert come ripping out from the vast emptiness to swirl around her form before ripping away in deadly siroccos to bring foes to their knees.

A knot of Dotharl descended upon the lalafell: Cirina cocked an arrow swiftly and fired at the closest one: but before her shot even landed, the spear-wielding attacker was knocked to the ground by a brilliant burst of light bursting forth from Tiel.

Cirina prepared to fire yet again, only to watch in awe as the little healer proceeded to let forth a _ceaseless_ volley of the same light spell until the whole party around her lay in the dirt.

Cirina’s shoulders slumped at the sight.

“What good am I next to them?” she murmured softly-only to see one of her own men running towards her, pursued by _Magnai himself._

In an instant, the young girl had her bow drawn.

“No, I must...do my part! Grandmother entrusted our people to _me_.”

Cirina sighted him, lined up and fired _true,_ cleaving Magnai’s flesh between the ribs. 

With a snarl, the man stumbled back clutching his chest, glaring at the woman with hatred in his golden eyes.

“ _You!_ You of all people dare strike your Sun!” he growled, fire in his eyes as he braced himself up with his own axe.

Her hands shook as she lowered her bow.

“In the Naadam, we are _equal,_ Brother Magnai!” she called defiantly back, gesturing for her tribesman to come to her side.

Magnai’s eyes glinted dangerously for a moment, but then his head dropped and he let out what could be construed as a tiny, rueful laugh.

“No matter. Join your allies for now: but I shall meet you all again to _crush_ you before this battle is won!!” 

Something in his tone raised the tiny, indignant part of her that sat deep in her soul.

“You may try.” She smiled and then fled.

-=-=-

“Defend the ovoo! Let none pass!” Cirina screamed high over the battle-pitch, dragging all the remaining Mol to her side with one piercing call as she closed in on the ovoo in pursuit of the warriors of light.

The Mol responded to her command, flanking the pillar of light and driving back all who were skirmishing around it as the Warriors burst through the skirmish onto the ground of the ovoo once more.

Then a crackle of lightning aether filled the air, and Cirina screamed in pain as Sadu Dotharl cast lightning on her mercilessly.

“Out of the way! The throne is _ours_!” the khagan screamed at her, running forward with death in her eyes.

“I can’t...let...you pass!” Cirina gritted out and raised her bow with trembling, twitching fingers.

The shot went wide, and Cirina felt a tremor in her soul as the dotharli woman raised her staff again, this time with a maelstrom of fire circling around it-

-=-=-

Alacran smashed his way through the last wall of xaela between him and the ovoo and stumbled forward onto his knees in the earth of the ovoo as the rush of voices came over him again. 

_Think Clemency, think pulling aether in-_ he desperately thought as he attempted to channel the spirits, bend them to his will.

The spirits only giggled, aether bending around him in a never ending stream of light. He tried to invoke the Echo, tried to pull the aether _through_ him the same way the Echo went, but it bled away faster than he could hold onto it.

“Tiel, I can’t-” he groaned, only to realize she was on her feet at his back casting cures upon the Mol warriors nearby.

“You’ll _have to._ ” she screamed over the clamor.

“Remember how I taught you to attune!! Hands! Grab hold all at once!” 

“Attune to _what??_ ” he called frantically.

_Hither, thither all the lands you’ve gone- what delight to meet again-_ the voices chanted.

“Pick one and don’t let it go, you aetherically challenged bastard!!” Tiel screamed and cast a Benediction on some target beyond his vision, her jaw set in concentration.

He closed his eyes and listened as the spirits crooned around him in a gay array until he could find a single voice.

_Hear feel think hello. Hello, He-_

_-ere we are, take us in as always-_

“Well, you’ll do! I don’t sodding know!!” he yelled and let all his aether flood out at once, drowning the voice and then dragging it _into him._

He felt the moment it sank in: the multitude silenced and his soul felt liable to flood out of his chest as a voice simply uttered:

_Thou shalt be Khagan._

Alacran opened his eyes to find the light of ovoo now radiating off of _himself._

The battlefield was silent, hordes of au ra standing still mid-duel.

At last, the figures of Sadu and Magnai pulled apart from an apparent spar.

“The Steppe has spoken!? Then the khagan is…” Sadu murmured.

Cirina staggered to her feet in the needlegrass, grinning.

“We have won… The Mol have won! The Dawn Throne is ours!”

Alacran stood in a slight daze as the light faded away from his skin-until Hien clapped him on the shoulder.

“We did it… And you, my friend…you…you were magnificent. Magnificent…and, uh…not a little terrifying.” the prince admitted with a grin.

Alacran merely blinked at him, for what does one say when a spirit itself declares you khagan of your former homeland?

Magnai quickly broke that reverie, however, by announcing the arrival of Grynewaht and his Garlean minions.

“Time to take up your new axe again, _Khagan_?” Tiel called over to him, pulling out her astrolabe yet again.

“Suppose so.” Alacran grinned back and ran to meet them.

-=-=-

Grynewaht’s troops were easily routed with the combined might of all the tribes together, and Alacran tried hard not to think about how technically, _he_ was the one commanding them.

In short order the ridiculous Garlean was running away like a scared rabbit, and Hien urged Cirina to address the crowd.

  
  


“Brothers and sisters of the Steppe!” Cirina called out, hands clasped to her thundering chest “The Naadam is ended, and we Mol now claim the Dawn Throne. No demands shall we make of you save these: heed our comrades’ words, and honor the law of the Steppe!”

Magnai looked the bow-woman gravely in the eye and nodded, even as Sadu promised Cirina the Dotharl's strength, then went on with a sideways smirk at Magnai.

“...And better the Mol’s law than that of the Sun. Arrogant and foolhardy were their pronouncements. Already you and yours show better sense." 

Magnai nearly snorted at the aggravation, folding his arms over his chest, covering the tear in his coat where Cirina’s arrow had cleaved it.

"The Sun shall answer your call, Doman. Wild as the wind the udgan and her brood may be, but they will deliver you naught. We will deliver you your kingdom."

With that, the man picked up his axe and strode away. 

Cirina's eye followed him as he went.

-=-=-

At last the affair was settled, and Alacran felt a sense of relief as the au ra dissipated back to their homes.

"Back to Mol Iloh, then?" He asked Cirina.

The women nodded brightly.

"Not to mention, back with _all_ our warriors. There shall be a feast tonight!"

"A feast?!" Tiel exclaimed, a hint of glee in her voice.

Cirina nodded.

"Anyone who wants to come pay tribute to the khan comes: no doubt Grandmother has already called for the cooking fires to be lit!”

Hien looked as though he was about to say something about the expediency of haste, but Lyse's unrestrained whoop of excitement cut the prince off abruptly as she pumped a fist high.

"Free food before we hit the road? What are we waiting for??"

Hien could only laugh and fold his arms ruefully.

"I suppose the garleans cannot gain much ground in the space of a few feasting hours." 

Alacran nodded at him, then held out his arms in a now well-worn gesture for Tiel climb aboard the Alacran Express: greatest mount in all the Steppe.

She wrinkled her nose as she took hold of his hands-blood was under his fingernails he suddenly realized-but climbed up without a word.

-=-=-

Slowly, Alacran walked back to Mol Iloh, Tiel on his shoulders as the sun set over the plains and the crickets began to chirp. 

The quiet of the world after the ring of steel and song of spirits left him to dwell on the absolute cacophony of voices he had heard.

“Tiel, the elemental spirits...there were so many voices...” 

His voice guttered out as he remembered how _small_ he felt in the middle of the maelstrom of power.

_How must she feel, hearing them whenever she takes out that stone?_

Tiel breathed an encouraging little noise and laid a soft finger against the join of his horns to his skin as she began to brush it soothingly.

“...They screamed over my thoughts, I could hardly think.” he finished lamely, cursing himself for being a writer unable to express the full weight of things in the moment.

But she only laughed softly.

“They always do that. You get used to it." 

“How did you _deal_ with that, for so long?”

She sighed softly.

"I didn't for a while but now...the control comes more naturally. Practicing drawing from a far off source like the stars helped. You have to be so precise when the constellations are so far away..."

“This is why I stick to swords” he laughed incredulously, then thumbed some bloody mud off the bridge of her foot.

“You're incredible. I can’t imagine putting up with that...amateur choir.”

He could hear the wet exhale as she just barely chuckled near his horn.

“No, no, you are, you picked up the axe and...moved like a man possessed. I've never seen you even hold one-yet you fought like a marauder of many years!”

Her fingers carded through his hair absentmindedly as she spoke, and a flicker of something squirreled its way deep inside his chest.

“That….well, it just...It just came”

"Just came." She slowly repeated, respect laying soft on her words.

"Was it your echo? That you told me about?"

Alacran hesitated.

"...yes. Was I...did I look..."

_Like a murderer._

"You looked like a warrior-prince." she said with a smile in her voice.

“I told you I trusted you to control it, and you did.”

_For you_ he thought. 

_For you_ , _anything._

“Alacran, I’m sure if you're able to hone your control you'll be able to use it against Zenos...or maybe not...”

Her voice trailed off at a strangely awkward pitch, but Alacran didn't notice, wrapped up in his own thoughts.

_If I can channel a spirit, I can find a way to control my echo._

_Then Zenos is mine._

_But first, a new sword._

-=-=-

Temulun met them at the entrance to Mol Iloh with a smile on her face.

“Welcome, warriors of the Steppe. We observed the battle from a distance, and marked the moment of your triumph.”

She closed her eyes a moment to stem a suspicious amount of wetness.

“In that instant, I wept tears of joy. Not only did you bring us victory in the Naadam, but you ensured that every one of my kinsmen returned with their lives.”

Cirina nodded to her grandmother with no small measure of pride on her face.

“Some were more gravely wounded than others, but none were lost to us. We could not have asked for anything more.”

Tiel smiled at the both of them and nodded.

“I did my best! But Alacran is the one who really takes the cake!”

Temulun blinked at the strange expression, but nodded.

“Indeed, I believe I understand. Young warrior?”

“Yes?” Alacran asked uncertainly.

“Come, I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.” Temulun told him, folding her hands behind her back and turning to lead the way into her yurt. 

Tiel tapped Alacran gently on the knee.

“Go.” she murmured, something strange and familiar on her face.

Alacran only nodded, but something rose in his throat.

Inside the yurt, Temulun sank down onto her chair gracefully and looked him dead in the eyes.

“I have made a promise with your healer.”

“A promise?” he asked. 

Promises never bode well.

“Aye.” The old woman paused a moment to gather her thoughts.

“We Mol are not suited for ruling the Steppe: our participation in the Nadaam this year was only due to our prophecies that we _must_ follow the commands of _he who would come._ ”

A shiver ran up his spine at the words: full of quiet conviction in what she was saying.

Temulun sighed and folded her hands in her lap.

“I thought we were only to be the battle-pawns of some foreign arbiter of destiny.”

Her wine-colored eyes softened.

“But then _you_ came, son of the steppe. A quiet, fearsome leader on the forefront of battle, according to Cirina.”

Her frail hand came up to her lips in contemplation.

“Your friend begged me: in the event of your victory to let you have the throne if you wished it. To throw the whole of my tribe behind your seat.”

Alacran felt his eyes widen and Temulun merely smiled gently at his look of shock.

“Think on it, warrior. You are already Khan. The tribes _will_ yield to you: it is only a matter of whether or not you wish to stay with us or travel afield.”

“I have a duty to save the world. I’ve...been the Warrior of Light.” Alacran slowly stated.

Temulun only nodded.

“Yet there are many ways to save the world. I offer you one this day. Think on it over the victory feast.”

She rose to her feet with a spry movement.

“Trust me: you will be able to think better on a full stomach. Come, I hear the festivities beginning!” 

-=-=-

An array of au ra greeted their arrival: Mol, Budugan and Oronir alike, some wrapped in bandages, nursing wounds, but bearing dishes and catches despite injury.

“Ah, the khan comes!!” one vaguely familiar Oronir called out into the assembly and Alacran soon found himself bewilderingly surrounded by men who had hours ago been enemies, congratulating him and pressing wine and bread into his hands as he went by.

"Congratulations on becoming Khan!" one man cheered while another leaned forward.

"Have you a nhaama? I've got a sister-"

"Unfortunately, I haven't got the time for one, been saving the world-" Alacran chuckled awkwardly, fending off the friendly arm sling.

"You'll have plenty of time if you stick around!" one svelte xaela chuckled as she tossed him a knife, ostensibly to cut his meat with at the forthcoming feast: the scent of which was setting his stomach rumbling.

A cluster of older women were next to assail him, touching his arms and marveling at his frame as he tried to get by.

"Have you a nhaama?" they asked eagerly, eyes glittering in the firelight of the encampment.

"No, no? I’m not from here, so-" 

He tried to fend them off, but evidently mothers were more tenacious than even _Grynewaht_ himself, and if the Mol elders had not got hold of him and dragged him to the head of a long, low rough wood table, there was no _telling_ what they might have done.

Before he knew it, even more food was being pressed into his hands and levied out onto his trencher, and old men and women eagerly asked him questions from whence he came- 

“Here...long ago-” he answered between bites of bread.

“How did you learn the sword?”  
  


_How does Tiel eat while talking all the time, this is impossible-_

“Er, paladins, in Ul’dah- it’s a very large city in the desert...” he tried to explain, but before he could even get into sword forms the thrice damned elders had moved on yet again:

“What tribe did you come from, then?-”

“I don’t know, I was six when I left!!”

As he fended off question after question, it was all he could do to scan the crowd for Tiel. 

_I need to ask why._

"-How does it feel to be Khan?" one particularly jovial woman asked as she poured ever more milk in his cup.

“Well, it’s...a title and one I had not intended to take-”

_Which is why I need to sit her down already and ask..._

-=-=-

“My, doesn’t that man look positively _regal!_ ”

“I heard that he led the charge in the Nadaam- some warrior from outside the steppe, but the Mol knew him?”

Tiel stared down into her plate of pickled vegetables as the two au ra women on either side of her gossiped over her head.

Alacran was the clear topic of their appreciative conversation.

She hid her face behind a bowl of wine and peered up to the head of the table where he was sitting with the Mol elders, looking _supremely_ impassive as he fended his way through an apparently lively conversation.

_Very fine mentally checked out form._

_Ten out of ten on the Alacran scale._

The ladies kept going on above her head.

“-think he’ll stay? Imagine if we had him on the throne for the year.”

“-hope he does, since I’ve got oh...five daughters left… you never know...”

Tiel scooped up a copious amount of vinegary vegetables on a piece of flatbread and crammed it in her mouth before she said something dumb.

_It’s fine. This is good. Yep. Yep._

Everything was fine, her paladin gone warrior looked like he _belonged_ amidst elders, belonged on Magnai’s throne and Eorzea still had a warrior of light in her… never mind that the ridiculous power of Zenos was still a dangerous threat against the two of them combined.

She had arranged this herself. 

_Because you care entirely too much about his happiness._

She took another drink of wine.

-=-=-

An hour later, Tiel was nigh on drunk and having a great time, stumbling just a bit as she searched through the banquet hall.

Alacran was nowhere to be seen, having dissipated at some point in the festivities to hide away from the ever-louder elders who had apparently begun a _very loud_ , drunken prophecy-party in the corner.

Not that his vanishing was a surprise, considering how much he liked packing his big arse away into dark corners of libraries. 

"Warrior of Light my arse, more like...Warrior of Shadows" she snorted to herself as she ducked around a gaggle of au ra children who were half stealing sweet buns from each other and half playing tag.

Thankfully they ignored her as she wove through the throng: some children tended to try to rope her into games, assuming she was just as old as they were due to her height.

Of course, it was just then that a small girl shrieked and toppled against her, crashing down hard against the lalafell.

Taken off guard, Tiel tipped forward with a crash, her glasses flying off her nose and landing with a heart rending smash on the stone floor.

"Ouch.." she grunted, pulling herself up and throwing her hand out to the glasses frames only to realize the lens were absolutely shattered.

"Sodding-and of course I didn't pack _basic lenses._ Stupid. _Stupid_. No time to travel home and back either."

She gathered up the glass shards and deposited in the communal fire with a grimace, then proceeded onwards with her now even more blundering search.

-=-=-

Alacran was...not hiding, per se. 

No, no, it was a tactical social retreat in the face of a dozen mothers attempting to introduce their daughters to him while the tribal elders laughed into their wine cups as though they knew something he didn't.

He had fled their company at last with some excuse of relieving himself and taken up the far finer company of the sheep at the outskirts of the camp. 

They softly baa-ed in the moonlight, huddling together in a pack of wooly lumps against the night chill as he watched them from up on the watchtower at the edge of the camp.

And then a small figure stumbled through the dark, drawing his eye.

The moon caught their golden hair, and he instantly raised his hand.

"Oi, what’re you doing, wandering around staggeringly drunk?”

Tiel frowned, drawing her robe tighter around herself as she approached.

“I'm looking...for someone while the liquor gives me..hehe, _liq_ uid courage.”

His eyebrow twitched.

“That was hardly alliteration” he informed her grandiosely as he beckoned her up the ladder.

She stumbled a little as she crawled up, frowning all the while.

“Didn’t know...steppe people knew words like _alliteration._ ”

“Not all of us are illiterate” he fired back, but internally wondered at her words.

After all, she didn't have her glasses on.

His curiosity was soon answered when she topped the steps and sank down next to him with a sigh.

"Who are you anyway, Ser...Ser Educated for the Steppe?" she questioned, while peering about in the dark for the _someone._

He had a choice. Oh, did he ever.

"Apsat."

His old name rolled off his tongue uncomfortably, but she didn't seem to notice, and surely it would be less embarrassing for her to not know the truth. 

At least, that is, until he could enlighten her on the morrow and thoroughly tease her for not recognizing him after all these years together.

Revenge for giving him an opportunity without warning that he didn't even want.

The payoff would be sweet.

She nodded sagely.

“Pleasure. You seen a..a big tall au ra like you? He helped win the Nadaam, has a big axe and shield.”

_Me? Why me?_

"Not ringing a bell, perhaps you should describe him?" Alacran asked carefully, stifling a grin.

She sighed thoughtfully and drew an entire wine bottle out of her robes from some hidden pocket of wonders.

“Welll, he’s very...tall, like you...oh I said that already uh... Little eyes with piss-colored rings, purple skin, looks like he could kill you three times before morning coffee...very pretty white hair, always braided away or tied up. It's a pity."

_Is it now._

"Can't say I've seen him lately. Why do you need him?" He asked casually.

She shuffled on the planks, drawing her skirts up under her knees to protect herself from the rough bark.

“Promise you won’t tell?” she sighed at last, staring off into the night sky.

Alacran stifled a smirk. 

_Oh, this will be prime blackmail material._

“Promise.”

The lalafell nodded and licked her lips.

"I need to tell him to stay with me after all...even though he looks so _right_ here, even though I pushed for that option in the first place because I thought he deserved it…" 

She pinched her nose and sighed heavily.

"I'm weak. I should just stand against Zenos alone.. he's been the hero so long, he deserves a break...” 

Tiel threw her hands up with a huff of drunken exasperation that seemed directed at only herself.

“ _Halone’s sake_ , he _was_ the hero without me by his side for ages...yet when it’s my turn to take the reins, I can’t help but think at the eleventh hour that I don't have quite enough endurance as an astrologian to stand there and heal myself while Zenos makes me into a pincushion...weeell, maybe with judicious Bole usage...actually…"

She fell into a little stupor then, muttering something about trees and regens, counting on her fingers how many healing effects she could extend with Celestial Opposition.

And Alacran watched her meditatively.

_So she wanted to give me...a sabbatical._

He had to do his best to keep from snorting. 

_Idiot._

It was all he could do to keep from grinding down his fist on her head and chastising her in revenge, but that would give the game away. Instead he sat peaceably planning out his method of attack as she continued to drink and drunkenly ramble about healing.

At some point, Alacran found he was leaning against her before he knew it, his night air-chilled scales warming with every touch. His tail curved around behind her; unconsciously bundling her against him with a gentle sweep.

She leaned in at the nudge with a soupy sigh, and he was rewarded for his effort with a bloom of warmth against his side that somehow set his heart racing.

The stars slid by the pair, quiet and shimmering-until Tiel uncapped the bottle of wine quite suddenly and took a distressingly long swig. 

“Thanks...for the listenin’ ear... I'm gonna go...get some more courage. Can...can probably manage this myself, now that I’ve thought it out...”

The lalafell swayed slightly in the moonlight as she stood up, wiping at her eyes with one wrinkly sleeve. 

He caught the glistening of smudged tears on her cheeks with the glow of his own limbral rings before she straightened up and set her shoulders determinedly. 

Brave. And completely unnecessary.

She turned to go and already his decision was made.

"You're not going back down there...like this" he growled, and grabbed the back of her dress with one hand.

She steadfastly kept walking in place as he held onto the cloth.

"Am so!" She called over her shoulder grumpily.

"You're drunk, and have the mental fortitude of a _child_ right now. It’s dangerous. Say your piece to him in the morning." he reasoned, dragging her backwards towards him.

She dug her heels into the logs to no avail, and soon he had one muscled arm wrapped around her belly. 

"Sit." He hissed in her ear, and did not miss the shudder that ran through her- _because her ears are sensitive-_ as he dragged her into his lap before he could consider why that might be a bad idea.

She wriggled in token protest before settling down with a giggle.

“Alrighty, if you say so, misteeer. Though I have to...to wonder what your _motivations_ are” she crooned, wriggling up against his chest _most distractingly._

"Oh. And I'm not a _child,_ I’m a lalafell. We come short _._ " She chuckled, low and husky, her breath a hot huff against his skin.

He swallowed.

“I’m. Aware.” His voice cracked as he spoke, his throat strangely dry.

This close, he could smell the scent of cloves and oranges that clung to her hair, feel the rise and fall of her chest as she drew heavy breaths.

He’d felt it before, of course, but on a far worse night than this. Held her in a room that anyone might have walked into.

Something felt liable to burst in his chest with the way his heart had decided to start pounding unreasonably fast.

_Out here, beneath the stars there’s nobody but us and the sheep._

Alacran _tried_ to curb that dangerous train of thought, but unfortunately Tiel chose that moment shift back and forth in his lap, rubbing _just so._

He stifled a groan as his cock stirred traitorously and clenched her stomach in warning.

“Stop that.” he protested, but it sounded feeble even to his own ears.

_This is what you've secretly always thought of, isn't it?_ His own consciousness scolded him even as he desperately regretted ever exchanging his platemail for a wool coat.

Ever so sweetly, she raised her flushed face and smiled like a cat that had got the cream.

"You appeeear to have...a lil... trouble downstairs" she slurred, one loose hand sliding across his trouser leg, sliding up the inside of his thigh, giving him the very dangerous urge to let it fall open at her touch.

He went still as stone.

"There's no trouble."

She smirked, all liquor fumes and sultry promises.

"I’m a veeery _experienced_ tailor, I can tell when trousers are getting….too tight for their owner..”

To emphasize her point, she stroked her hand across the inside of his thigh as she _ground down_ against him. The round softness of her ass dragged the cloth across his cock insistently and the touch of her hands against the hollow of his thighs set his nerves on _fire_.

Summoning all his strength, he clapped a hand over his mouth before he let out any strangled, encouraging noise.

_Oh Halone is this really happening._

After a moment of heavy breathing he spoke carefully.

“My trousers are perfectly adequate for all occasions and do not require your….ser...attentions" he primly informed her through his fingers as he desperately tried to will his suddenly _very interested_ lower regions into submission.

She _pouted._

“You’re saying you don’t want the assistance of a _very experienced weaver?_ I assure you, all my customers leave...satisfied”

She slid a warm hand up his chest as she spoke, and punctuated the remark with a caress of his neck that left goosebumps rising in its wake.

_Oh, shite on a fucking stick._ He thought desperately and felt a slew of words he could barely put together bubbling up in his throat.

Alacran grabbed the woman’s hand, swallowing up her miscreant fingers in his palm and clenched down. The words spilled out before he scarcely knew what they were.

"Listen, as attractive as you are, I'm not having my first time be a drunken fling on a rooftop! I'm a romantic, Halone take me! And _you_...you deserve fucking _rose petals_ and moon lit walks on the beach!! Sod you! You deserve more than your little _secret plans_ and _dumbass drunken nightmare decisions!_ "

Immediately after that impulsive statement he slammed his mouth shut with an audible clack of teeth.

_Oh Halone._

Drowsily, she studied his face as he flushed violently violet. Her brow screwed up as if trying to put together...something.

Then her eyelids drooped and the furrow in her brow melted.

"Alriiight, 's conhii...conscientious of you… though I was planning on being plenty romantic for the record! I would've made you pancakes in the morning! ‘M trying!" she declared before slumping against his chest in half-sleep.

Slowly he let out a hot breath, willing his heart to stop racing because suddenly the heinous alliteration of _post-coitus pancakes_ was flooding his sodding writer's mind.

Instead, he began to think of the old hags from Shisui: completely naked, with breasts wrinkled like walnuts and slowly his arousal faded with every rise and fall of their synchronized breaths.

They stayed that way a while; just two people, furled into each other under the stars.

-=-=-

The feast downstairs was likely drawing to a close as Alacran roused his friend.

"Hey. We should get back."

"Mmgh?" She murmured, licking her lips as she woke up from her drunken doze.

"Back into the party” he sighed, dreading the return to the press and hustle already.

"Don't wanna." she groaned, pinching her nose.

"You're going to." 

_Because I'm going to have a very unhealthy wanking session after this and then never look at you again out of shame._

Which was a bald faced lie to himself, because how could he _not_ look.

"Fine. There's more wine there...and I still have my mission." She sighed, rolling off him unsteadily.

_Ah. Still hasn't realized then._

"Let's go, you night terror" he sighed, offering his hand.

"’Kay, Ser Apsat." she yawned, and when she put her hand in his, his heart felt like a maelstrom of butterflies had taken up shop in his chest.

-=-=-

The pair paused in the entryway to the main yurt, amazed by the apparent early-morning dance-off going on.

“You Mol definitely know how to party” Tiel drowsily observed, squinting at the flurry of whirling coats.

Alacran decided that before he let her go to continue her amusingly fruitless mission, she should at least drink something other than wine.

Vi-deo’s admonishment from all those moons ago rang in his mind even now.

Luckily, the Mol had seen fit to put several barrels and basins of water out, probably expecting people to need to thin out their blood.

"Here. Drink some water before you go back in." 

Alacran offered a basin to her with one hand.

Tiel considered it vacantly, then _plunged her whole face into it oh Halone._

He dragged her out by the hair, ignoring the captivating little grunt that escaped her lips.

“What do you think you're doing??” he growled.

She lolled gently in his grip and shrugged.

“Drinking?”

“Halone preserve me, you’re like a _toddler…_ ” he groaned and cast about for a cup, only to find none.

"Here. Drink from my hand" he ordered, dipping one in the water and offering it.

She smiled up at him gratefully, then slurped it up ungracefully, like some eager puppy.

_World’s worst pet_ he thought, even as some part of his heart blossomed warmly at the ridiculous sight.

The remnants of arousal still clung to him headily as she revived them by licking his fingers half-seductively and half with the grace of a limsa lominsan eating a sausage.

He couldn't help snorting through his flush at the sight because it was _her_ even if it was also a _terrible_ attempt at seduction.

_Ah, to be stuck with this sight for the rest of my life…_ he mused as he refilled his hands for her and held them out helplessly.

Suddenly his eyes shot wide in realization.

_The rest of..._

Tiel sputtered against his shaking hands.

“Ser Apsat… are we waterboardinnng.” she complained, blowing water out of her nose where he had accidentally splashed it up into her face.

“S..sorry!” he stammered, feeling his face gradually flush dark purple.

_The rest of my life. I want her. For the rest of…_

"Fuck." He announced to the early morning air in the corridor as she cleaned out her nostrils on the hem of her dress.

"Hmm?? Did you change yo-" she began before he presented her with another handful of water as he felt his world spin off its axis.

It was _love_ . Not respect, not lust- _ok, a little lust-_ love.

_Halone take me, I've been slower than the stupid protagonists I write._

Slowly, she drank again from his hands with obnoxious slurps as he proceeded to have a quiet panic attack above her.

_I want...but…_

Visions of that sodding Cravellin danced through his head, of the precise and speedy way the elezen was incised from her life like a tumor.

_What if…_

It was a quiet terror that settled into his belly like a snake coiling up and left him feeling cold as she finished the water and smiled up at him, unseeingly.

"Thank you."

Slowly he brought his arms back down to rest at his sides.

"You're welcome."

Stealthily, the pair entered the hall again, and Alacran deposited her on a cushion up on what was probably Temulun’s throne thing, but he just couldn't be arsed to care, what with the whole _life changing revelation_.

"Look out for your man from here" he quietly instructed.

She beamed.

"Thanks, Ser Apsat! I'll have to find you again sometime!"

"Huh. Well, I'm sure I won't be far."

The xaela turned to leave before he could say anything else stupid like "holy shite I love you isn't that a national tragedy" only to be held in place by a sudden hand on his tail.

He turned, only to see her plant a soft kiss against the very tip of his tail.

Alacran froze in place, feeling a wall of heat roll up his chest and face as slowly Tiel lifted her head up, eyes glassy, and dropped the tail swiftly, lurching back into place on the cushion.

He...he decided now was not the time to process the strange way his heart wrung itself out at the gesture and swiftly left, folding into the fray of dancing au ra.

A thousand images slid through his mind's eye as he ducked around the gleeful dancers.

Memories of that ball in Ishgard, the jealousy that had curled around his gut when Aymeric carried her.

_Even then. Even then._

Disappointment when she said she could kill him.

_Never point your weapon at the ones you love._

How his stomach settled the instant he found her again after the sultana’s assasination.

_The living embodiment of chamomile tea…_

He reached the other side of the fray at last, stumbling out of the sway and press of warm, scaly bodies to lean against the tent wall, discombobulated.

Even now his eyes wandered over the heads of the dancing flurry of bodies to seek her out, watching with satisfaction as she appeared to be squinting at the group before giving up and wriggling into a ball on top of a large cushion to sleep.

Alacran let out a hot sigh of relief, for he was _not_ ready to sleep in the same yurt as her.

  
  


And of course-because destiny was a bitch-Hien chose that very moment to poke his head in through the tent opening, turning it back and forth until he most unfortunately caught sight of Alacran.

“Ah!” the prince beamed and ducked inside the tent to sidle up next to the paladin.

"You missed most all the festivities, Alacran, though I suppose that means you’ll be more rested than your companions: they’ve been partying all night.”

"Aye…” Alacran grunted back noncommittally.

“If you’re looking for a drinking companion, Hien, I’m not it. Was on my way to bed."

Alacran tried to duck around the doman, but the man held his ground.

"I noticed that our resident healer was also missing...and that you two returned _together._ Flushed and rumpled." the man calmly stated, raising a bushy brow.

Alacran tried not to freeze unnaturally; a task that was rather hard considering his whole world had just changed in the last ten minutes.

Hien stood still a moment, then suddenly bent over guffawing.

"So even the paragon of the Scions can blush!! Gods, what a sight!" He roared, then clapped Alacran on the shoulder yet again.

"I shan't tell." He whispered loudly with a solid wink.

Alacran flushed deeper still, stiffly bowed goodnight and fled into the night with flaming-hot cheeks.

-=-=-

Tiel came to violently, drowning in memories of hands in her hair, muscled legs beneath her own…the feeling of a scaly neck, the reverberations of a rough voice shooting through her head as she blinked away sleep.

She burst up from the pile of cushions, looking wildly around for a body-but no naked man met her sight, much to her relief.

Great rays of mid-morning sun seemed to slice into the yurt through the open doorway as soft-stepping, blurry around the edges au ra worked their way around sleeping bodies on the floor, cleaning up the remnants of last night’s feast.

One older lady hopped up on the dais and smiled at Tiel sweetly.

“Breakfast is outside, little hero.”

"Hn? Oh, thank you…" she mumbled and began to tug off her remarkably sweaty wool dress. 

A quick dig in her bags and she had a lighter, cotton dress in Lominsan style on her hands.

It settled against her skin lightly, and she let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sensation of the curved cuts on the bodice, seams laying perfectly fitted against the skin, rather than tightening in all the wrong places.

_No need to fit in with the tribes anymore. I'm leaving soon._

_Without him?_

Her hand stopped in place, still holding the laces of her bodice.

"Shite. I knew I forgot something."

-=-=-

“Is it possible to have a hangover without drinking??” Alacran mumbled to himself as he struggled to wake up against the slicing pain of a massive headache.

No chipper low voice answered him back, and in the absence of that now-familiar sound, all of the previous day came rushing back to the xaela in a flood.

_Warm hands and thudding heart._

_Love. Sodding love._

"I...love her."

He tested the words out in the cold morning air, then shuddered when they rang too true to ignore.

As he dressed, the memories of every _touch_ last night lingered on his skin: his neck as he pulled on an undershirt, his legs as he did up the ties of his trousers. 

There was no denying the attraction before- _but then, I've known that for years-_ but tempered with brand new affection?? 

It was a deadly combo.

His writers' mind wildly raced through a dozen scenarios as he dreamily buckled on his armor; from walks on the beach holding hands, to sharing dinner and laughing happily as he watched her face scrunch up as he forced her to eat squid...to _indecent_ use of a cabana at Gegereju's behest.

That last one left him scrambling for the river to wash his face in cold water until he found himself in his right mind once more, staring down at his reflection as he squatted on the riverbank.

It was _terrifying_ how easily the thoughts had come, as if his subconscious had known all along that he was in love and had been simply waiting for his mind to catch up.

His words from last night came to the fore of his memory.

_You deserve rose petals and walks on the beach..._

"...and..I want to be the one…”

He clutched his chest, his heart beating twice as fast as usual.

"The one you do that with...This is love...this is…”

_Terrifying._

Yet again, the ghosts of elezen past haunted him.

"I can't mess this up. Can't get myself cut off…"

He began to pace in the squelchy mud, to and fro.

"I could just fall out of love. Pretend and let it go away” he suggested to the nearby bush.

_But I've already tried to do that, haven't I…_ he slowly realized, thinking back to the moment in the free company garden when he'd tended her wounds and ignored exactly how much he'd yearned to go further.

He paced some more, raking fingers through his hair as the sun rose higher in the sky and his stomach began to rumble.

"...I'll just have to make her love me. I’ll just...seduce her."

He realized then that he was staring wild-eyed into the water, hair askew and feet covered in mud.

“Gods. I’ve become just as manipulative as that little shite.” he laughed to himself half maniacally, but slowly straightened up.

“No. No. This is just _wooing_ . I’m just going to enchant her. _Nothing_ will go wrong. I'll...seduce her, romance her without her realizing-until she _does,_ until she's too far gone to ever dream of cutting me off. And then we will be _fine_."

_And…_ some little dark part of himself whispered _and she deserves a little teasing, a little torment considering all those years of stupidity and silly fights…_

He took a deep breath and began to finger-comb his hair.

"If you can lead half of Ishgard on a merry hunt, I'll lead you on one of my own."

_Game on._

-=-=-

Breakfast-judging by the smell-was shakshouka bubbling in iron pots over coals and flatbread laid out in great piles on blankets.

Tiel stumbled through the piles of bread, rubbing her eyes and squinting in the morning sun, attempting to find her compatriots.

Unfortunately, the lack of eyeglasses and the caffeine withdrawal was rendering her search futile-until she ran smack-dab into a familiar pair of armored knees.

"Ooof." She grunted, and tilted her head back, eyes squinting to make out- _yes, purple skin, piss-eyes._

"Good morning, I've been looking for you!"

Alacran knelt down and proffered her a bowl of shakshouka.

"As have _I_ " he pronounced, a thin line visible between his furrowed brows.

Tiel gulped.

"I take it you didn't like Temulun's job offer then?"

A corner of his mouth twitched.

"Is _that_ what you call arranging for a tribal seat behind my back?"

_Oh Halone, he's really angry_ Tiel thought desperately. She'd anticipated him rejecting it, but not outright _anger._

"I… perhaps we'd better sit down?"

-=-=-

They found a quiet spot on a boulder away from the encampment to set down the bowl and a bundle of bread.

"Talk." Alacran commanded as he broke open a round of bread and scooped up an egg with it.

"Why would you arrange something like that?"

Tiel bit her lip.

"Because when I heard what destiny supposedly has in store for you from that elder at the Dawn Throne, I thought you deserved a fair shot at happiness. I had my break from adventuring after the...the Sultana. So. I thought this was a good chance to offer _you_ one."

She picked apart a flatbread into neat triangles and dipped them methodically into the tomato-laden sauce

"Not to mention...you look like you belong here." She quietly finished.

_I checked your destiny by flirting with Magnai. His response only solidifies the fact that fate would never bind two disparate races together. So your love...must be here._

Alacran set his jaw.

“The _destiny_ of au ra means shite-all in the face of Garlemald, in the face of saving the world. You need me and I want to be there. Killing Zenos. For Halone's sake, we _just_ talked about training my Echo for it, and now you think I want to be packed off to...to a grassland??" 

Tiel shook her head.

"Alacran, I'm not saying stay here and...and _herd sheep,_ I'm saying you would be within your right to play the part of Khan, be the intermediary between the steppe and the outside world for a year during this conflict with Garlemald and lead the tribes’ charge against the Garleans! Maybe find love along the way, and then...rejoin the Scions. It would be heroism, in its own way...”

“It would be _bureaucracy_.” he retorted.

She shrugged luxuriously. The neckline of her dress slid off her shoulder with the languid movement and he tried hard not to stare.

"Tataru does bureaucracy and is _invaluable._ "

"I'm not _Tataru._ " he growled, then considered a moment.

“How about this?” He raised his bread to hers with a wet, tomatoey toast. 

“I’ll only stay if you do."

"Hah!" She laughed incredulously.

"H..how, what, what would I even _do_?"

_Be my nhaama_ he thought unbidden, the memories of last night still fresh, the lingering, heated weight of her seated deeply in his lap.

"Be one of those Nhaama." He offered lightly, lifting his eyebrows in a hopefully teasing way.

_Is this how people flirt?_ _Halone, I hope so._

She sputtered around a mouth of tomato.

"I can't just...be a destined wife, I don't really have the requisite scales!"

He leaned forward, using his height advantage to smirk down at her.

"Who knows what destiny has in store? If you can _get along_ with one au ra, perhaps you can get along with another!"

She winced and turned away abruptly.

“So you saw...last night.” she muttered, face flushing an attractive dark hue.

Alacran sat back and _tried_ to look innocent as she shot him a side glance, probably trying to discern what all he’d supposedly _seen._

At last she sighed and attempted to adjust spectacles that _weren’t there_ before making an utterly peeved face at herself.

“I can’t stay. Someone has to kill Zenos-”

“-and that will be you and me.” he cut in, only for her to frown.

“I… think I don’t need you. I ran calculations. If I take the free company members and apply bole judiciously, I can shield the strikes and survive for approximately ten minutes by utilizing regens and dilating time: long enough to strike him down with an armed battalion.”

He searched her eyes: they were clear now in the morning light, not hazy with the effects of alcohol. Quiet conviction shone in them, tempered with a good amount of fear.

The drunken calculations obviously had held water after all.

Slowly, he reached across the emptied bowl of shakshouka and rested his palm on top of her hand.

“I don’t doubt you, Tiel. But I _want to be there._ You may be able to take his hits, but I don’t want you hurt any more than can be helped. And you _know_ he would hurt you.”

Tiel bit her lip yet again, and he resisted the wild urge to pry it out of her teeth and run his finger along it.

“But what of your homeland? Don’t you feel at home here? I can go back to Ul’dah any time now, but to come to the Steppe is more difficult.” she asked, turning her palm to meet his and lacing fingers with him tightly.

Alacran shook his head and desperately hoped that the few patches of skin on his hands that weren’t covered in scales were not in fact sweating.

"This...is the place I was born. I can’t deny there’s something here, some strangely enchanting feeling. But the place where I belong?" He pictured his shield, raised in defence, of life on the road.

He imagined the couch in the library of the free company house. The sea breeze sifting through the windows, the infernal chime of the front door….

The kitchen, sleeves rolled up to reveal brown arms and heart-covered oven mitts lifting trays of acorn cookies out of the oven.

“Home for me is...the home you’ve made.”

She searched his eyes once with watering eyes, then nodded jerkily.

“Ok. Ok-” 

“Don’t you _dare_ cry, we haven’t even had coffee yet.” 

-=-=-

After commandeering a fire just to make coffee- _Khagan’s orders_ \- they rallied the troops and Alacran pulled Hien aside to tell him in no uncertain terms that if he dared _breath_ a single word of what he had seen, the prince would find his futon occupied every day with piles of tiger-shite.

As the party gathered to depart, Cirina came forth bearing a strange little instrument in her hands.

"Grandmother and I have been discussing how we might best express our gratitude to you. Mere words did not seem sufficient."

The woman placed the instrument in Tiel's hands and smiled.

"This is a morin khurr─a traditional instrument of our people...The feats of our greatest heroes, like Bardam and Chakha, are preserved in song. Yours too will live on for years to come."

Tiel's lips rounded with a soft "oh!", before she cast a sideways glance at Alacran.

"I must confess, I'm used to our deeds being written on paper…" She smirked at him, then plucked lightly at one of the strings and smiled at the clear sound that rang out. 

"But perhaps a song...wouldn't be so bad. I just might write one."

Cirina beamed. "Please, come back and teach it to us if you do! But if not, you may look on the morin khurr and remember this time, this place. As we will when we hearken to our own music."

Hien said something about "pressing obligations" and began discussing a course of action with Cirina and the group, but Alacran only stood, looking at Tiel as she quietly plucked at each of the strings with a tiny smile.

He stepped closer and knelt down.

"You should write one about yourself. Can't let me have all the glory-"

He cast a look at the tribe, then back at her.

"-as I suspect the Mol will remember me more than you."

Her brows furrowed.

"That's quite rude, to think-"

"On account of losing track of you in the grass all the time." He smirked, and watched the pure rage coalesce in her dangerously glittering eyes.

"Why you-" she began, only to be cut off by Lyse loudly exclaiming

"The Dawn Throne first, then?"

"Yes. And I shall accompany you!" Cirina smiled as she buckled on her quiver.

Lyse turned to the warriors of light.

"Come on, we've got to go pay our final respects to the Khagans-"

Alacran stood up to his full height and raised an eyebrow.

“Correction: _you_ all will be doing the final rounds here. _We_ will be teleporting straight to Kugane to fetch my healer a new pair of glasses and to find me a new sword.”

"What? Alacran, that's not-" Tiel began, but he took her hand in his before she could finish protesting, and began casting Teleport over both of them.

Hien and Lyse looked liable to argue, but could only step back helplessly as the warriors of light began to warp away.

But Cirina merely watched with strange amusement, and as the world melted away into aether, Alacran could swear she dropped one thick eyelid in a subtle wink.


End file.
